Fortuitous
by His.Pointy.Tongued.Majesty
Summary: It's funny how quickly one not so preferable situation can turn into an extremely preferable one. At least, Duncan thinks so. Courtney...? Not so much.
1. Duncan the Dog Whisperer?

_Hey guys! Kat here. Again. Listen, recently, TDI has become my obsession-- this is not to be taken lightly. Like, seriously. It's my life._

_Anyway, the characters Courtney and Duncan caught my eye and I have thus been filled with inspiration about them. This story will at least be a two shot, and I'm counting on you readers to let me know if ya want more._

_Disclaimer: I do not own TDI or any of its character. I know-- sucks to be me._

**Fortuitous**

**Chapter 1**

Duncan had always hated dogs—being frequently pursued by the species didn't tend to alter his feelings either. And thus, he was never that friendly to them, whatever the type. He just had it figured that dogs would share mutual feelings toward him.

So why a floppy-eared, fluffy-tailed mutt was following him around completely boggled his mind.

Staring at the smallish dog, Duncan contemplated on whether or not to keep walking and hope the thing would be smart enough not to follow, or try and scare it away. Actually, he was surprised that his piercings and partial-green hair had already intimidated the dog in the least… or so it appeared. He watched in disdain as the animal tilted its head, never-ceasing in its gaze.

"Alright, mongrel… shoo!" Even if he raised his voice the dog stayed put. Duncan groped the ground from where he sat on a park bench for a stick. Fingers grasped around it, he slowly moved the stick back and forth in front of the dog's eyes, making sure the movements were followed before releasing it.

Both man and dog watched the piece of wood arch in the air and land with a _thud_ on the ground meters away.

Duncan looked at the creature expectantly. "You know, this is the part where you're supposed to go chase after it idiotically." The dog's only response was a bark and an increase in panting as its tongue lopped over the side of its mouth.

"You'd kill the dreams of many kids, mutt," Duncan deadpanned, prodding the dog in the nose with two fingers. He scrutinized the creature's scruffy fur and name-tag-less neck. He snorted. "Maybe you're my kind of dog."

The dog promptly stood on its hindquarters and laid its head on Duncan's knee.

"That _was_ a joke," he muttered, frowning when drops of drool dribbled down from the dog's hanging tongue. He could've sworn that it was grinning at him.

Duncan sighed and reluctantly scratched the mutt's head, slumping back into the bench. He tweaked his eyebrow when the dog also seemed to sigh, through it was more of a whine, as it looked off further into the distance that the pathway curving through the park led to.

"What," said Duncan sarcastically after it yipped another whine-sound. "You think you've got problems?" The dog's eyes flickered at Duncan's, as if to say, "Who doesn't?"

"Pfft." Duncan pointed at his chest with his thumb. "_I've_ got problems."

"First off—" he cut himself off and blinked, giving the dog a glare, "I'm having a conversation with a dog." He rubbed his temple. "Second, I'm stuck here." He waved his arm out, attempting to portray the bulk of 'here'.

According to his previous judge—yes, he had his own judge—he had been on 'good behavior' since getting back from the island. Hah, that was him, always the _good_ one. Anyway, the judge said that now his attitude had changed (that's what the old geezer _thought_), it would be best to also have a fresh start.

Please. The dude just wanted Duncan and his record out of his hair, thereby issuing his family to move residences. In other words, to come _here_: Quebec.

Not that Quebec was a terrible place to live… it was more of this residential area—so pristine and pleasant and peachy. And police-y. His parents loved it, being welcomed so cheerfully by their fellow cops. Yup… it could definitely do with some damage—a job he would willingly oblige to.

Unfortunately for him, he was on house arrest. As if—it had been more than easy to sneak out; in fact, the cop monitoring his house while his parents were out was probably still sitting like a dud in the driveway. And really, did he have to be surveyed at every moment? He'd _only_ graffiti-ed his old school's bathrooms… along with a few other things, but big deal. They could be cleaned too.

Duncan smirked to himself as his thoughts mulled around in his head, thinking of new ideas that could be applied to this Mountainside High he was to be going to once the summer ended.

He was pulled from his gleeful imaginings as his new 'friend' sat up and looked down the pathway, tail wagging in earnest. Duncan followed the dog's stare.

There was a jogger—female—coming along the winding path, some sort of white pooch by her side. Duncan couldn't help but appraise the runner's attire—spandex shorts, a sports bra, and a toned body were nothing to complain about in his book. She was listening to music, the ear-phone wires bouncing off her side as she ran, and took no notice of Duncan or the mutt as she passed.

Duncan cringed as, suddenly, the little beast in front of him began barking and yipping in an _extremely_ shrill manner.

For a split second, the white fluff-ball paused in running to look, silencing the mutt, before moving faster to catch up to the girl.

Rubbing at his ear, Duncan watched in bewilderment as the little dog dropped into what seem like a mournful, self-pity complex, if a dog could do that, tail falling between its legs. He snapped his fingers.

"Oh… girl trouble, eh?" The fuzzy animal once more placed its head on his knee. He frowned. "Look, I'm no shrink, but I'm pretty sure you'll get over it."

Duncan could feel the rumblings in the dog's chest against his leg when it growled.

"What?" He held up his arms in defense. "I'm not being insensitive—it's true. Girls come, and then they go."

He looked up, wincing slightly when the rays of sun hit his eyes. It was nearing the time when all the old coots in the neighborhood would come out on their porches and prepare to watch the sunset; not quite twilight but just post late afternoon.

Gingerly reaching out to pat the mutt on the head, Duncan raised an eyebrow when the thing slumped further into his lap.

"You think you're the only one? Come on dog, man up. It's not _that_—" he cut himself off again when his brain caught up with what he was saying. He just told a dog to "man up". Pathetic? Clearly. Crazy? Oh yeah.

"Right. Well, now that I've convinced myself that I'm totally deluded, there's not really a point in stopping." Duncan took a breath. "Anyway, it's even happened to me—the girl thing, that is."

Almost on cue, the flashbacks came.

'_Ohmigosh! __**Ew**__. You were cuddling me!'_

'_I HATE you!'_

'_You are such an ogre'._

'_Thanks, enjoy prison_…_'_

The smirk creeping across his lips was almost an immediate reaction to those particular memories. Sure, he'd had flings before(many times, in fact), but one participant stood out indefinitely.

Courtney.

Had it really been a year? It seemed like yesterday, when he would tease her and watch her face ignite into an appealing shade of red, so much that her freckles would stand out and he could count them without difficulty. Then she would scrunch her nose up in that obnoxiously _cute _way and verbally let him have it. Sometimes physically.

Oh ho… and how he remembered the victorious feeling of being able to corrupt that preppy-goody-two-shoes, tainting her morals and ideals until she couldn't hide behind her ridiculous concepts of denial any longer.

And the kiss. That had been a very nice kiss.

Man… he'd been bored out of his mind when she left. Sure, it was still fun to kick the other competitors' butts here and there, but without the sheer amusement the princess had offered him, it was almost not worth it to try and stay. Too bad he had a whole lot of pride…

But that had been it. She came, and then she was gone. Sometimes he wished he was still on that island; still in that stupid camp. He could admit that he missed the other guys… even though he mostly missed the easy targets they had provided for his inner-bully. The island, despite Chris mucking it up with his ever-maddening attempts at getting higher ratings, had its advantages.

Another whiney sound broke Duncan out of his revere. He looked down at the dog in surprise—he'd almost forgotten the little mongrel was still there.

"Eh," he started, scratching its head, "you'll get over it. Eventually." He vaguely wondered if Courtney still had that skull he had carved for her… and then wondered, brooding, if his "eventually" would be coming any time soon.

The sun was close to setting now, and it was making him extremely tired. All the random colors were dancing around in a way that made him think of all the dream-sequences that quite a few producers tried to convey in their movies; failing miserably, in Duncan's opinion. Not everybody had dreams of cotton-candy clouds and happy rainbows. Disgusting.

"Toby!" He blinked, opening his eyes, which he had not noticed closing, and yawned. He could have sworn he heard somebody calling.

The dog's tail thumped Duncan in the leg as it sat up, excited.

The call came again: "Toby!"

Something in Duncan's mind clicked as the voiced echoed from the grove of threes off to the other side of the pathway in front of him.

'_Ogre'_

'_Neanderthal'_

'_Pig!'_

No way. He straightened up in his seat, hand clenching the wooden paneling of the bench. No _freaking_ way. He _knew_ that voice. The voice called again and a smirk plastered itself over his face.

He looked down at the dog, now assuming its name was 'Toby', as it was looking in the direction the voice was coming from, tongue lapping around.

Now rustlings could be heard from the underbrush and trees as the owner of the voice shoved through and came closer.

"I swear—come on you dumb dog! This is the third time this week! Where are—"

The figure emerged.

Duncan's smirk broadened. He leaned back and placed his arms behind his head casually, examining her rather stiff body. She looked the same… except that she had a very dumbfounded expression on her pretty face; she was skeptical, and obviously in complete disbelief.

"Hey, princess," he called out. "Miss me?"

Toby let out a bark.


	2. Fate?

_Hey everyone! WOW! I did **not** expect to get so many reviews on this thing! You guys rock! And seriously, keep reviewing - it fuels me on. And it made me decide to keep going with this thing._

_So anyway, here's chapter two in all its glory. I swear, Duncan and Courtney are two of the funniest characters to write about; you never know what they're gonna say. Even though you're writing what they say... right. _

_Oh, and let me warn you all before hand: this may be the last update for the next week. I'm starting school Monday(NOOO)and with seven classes a day plus four or more hours of homework, I'm going to be swamped. But I'm going to promise an update at least every two weeks... just don't slaughter me if that promise is not kept at all times. _

_All of your comments were amazing and helpful and incredible! Keep them coming! (Dude... I even got hissed at! It was awesome.)_

**Chapter Two**

"Duncan."

"Yes, that _is_ my name."

"_Duncan_."

The said delinquent rolled his eyes. He'd lost count on how many times Courtney had said his name; the same tone of incredulousness rendered each time she spoke. It was like she was a broken drone.

"You know, princess, if you insist upon continuing to say my name, do you think you could add a little more _moan_ into it? That'd be much appreciated." Duncan grinned in delight as she seemed to snap out of whatever stupor she'd been in; clutching the red leash she had dangling from her left hand tighter.

"Pig."

Duncan put a hand to his heart, leaning his head back. "You wound me. Seriously." He quickly patted the empty part of bench next to him, locking his own amused eyes with her angry ones. Funny, she managed to look confused at the same time too. "Come on—I promise I won't bite." His voice was bordering on giddy.

Toby, obviously not one to be forgotten, barked again and padded over to Courtney, who blinked a few more times, as if clearing her head, and then bent down to scratch him under the chin. She cautiously stood up and began walking over to where Duncan was sitting, innocently.

As she sat down, brow still furrowed, she stared ahead, eyes moving back and forth; almost like she was solving a puzzle.

Duncan leaned an elbow on the back of the bench, staring at her. He chuckled. "I swear I'm real. You're not seeing things." And finally she spoke.

"What are you _doing_ here?!"

Interesting. One would have thought she'd be more pleased to see him.

"Funny you should ask that. See… I moved."

"But why _here_?" Actually, he didn't know. Now he just thought it was because he was lucky. Hmm… he had forgotten how cute she looked when she got all flustered.

Time for an excuse. "My parents liked the number of policemen in this town. They thought it would rein me down better." That seemed plausible. His eyes trailed down to her lips, devious thoughts forming in his head. "Of course," he drawled, putting an arm around her shoulders, "you could always call it fate."

Courtney gave him a dry look, plucking his arm off of her. "There's no such thing as fate," she said, pursing her lips, again drawing Duncan's attention to them. She was wearing some sort of lip gloss—it had faded, but he wondered what it would taste like…

He shook his head, smirking at her. "Oh? I beg to differ."

"How so?" Oho… the challenge was back in her voice, and he was itching to accept it. She wanted a fight? Fine.

"The island. And how we met. That was fate."

She crossed her arms defiantly. "That was a just a series of seriously unfortunate events. A bad coincidence. Besides, you meet people randomly like that all the time."

Duncan scoffed. So, her hardly logical logic had been built up again. Whatever—all the more fun for him. "Alright…" He grinned smugly at her, preparing to enjoy her reaction. "But you can't deny the kiss. That was fated from the moment we stepped onto the island."

Courtney faltered, a blush staining her cheeks as she remembered. "No it wasn't! That was just a poor lapse in my judgment. It was clouded thinking." She paused. "It…" she trailed off awkwardly.

Duncan snorted. "Face it, _princess_. Not even all the denial you have stored in your pretty little head can help you. You liked me. A lot." He smirked. "The kiss proved it. And all the time it took you to do it proved my fate theory."

"Well… then you obviously haven't heard my rollercoaster theory."

"_Please_, enlighten me."

She glared at his sarcastic tone, but continued. "It was like the adrenaline rush you get on a rollercoaster—you can't think straight because you never know if it's going to turn or drop or dart up. All of those… _scenes_ we had, they were totally just a part of the camp's insanity. Everything that happened concerning us, on my part at least, were catalyzed through the plethora of pressures that we got burdened with during all those stupid challenges! It happened to the other guys too!" She took a breath. "In other words, if it hadn't been for that island, none of it would have _ever_ happened."

Wow. Only Courtney would be able to talk herself out something like that.

"Okay, maybe you have more denial in you than I thought." Duncan held a hand up when she opened her mouth to retort. "So, you're saying that I'm your rollercoaster?"

"Um…"

"Because you can ride me anytime." He winked.

"Pervert!"

Snickering, he ducked when her hand came up to smack him, enjoying the way her voice raised a few octaves in her fury. He couldn't resist! She made it too easy for him!

He unconsciously reached out to pet the top of Toby's head when the mutt sat down in front of him. "So… what do you call this?" he asked, once she had fumed out the worst of her anger.

Courtney blinked. "This… what?"

"Us meeting here. It's fate."

"I would hardly call this meeting fortuitous," she grumbled, slouching in her seat. "It's more like… like bad karma."

Duncan gave her a skeptical look, now deeply amused. "You believe in _karma_, and not fate? Do I sense a bit of hypocrisy here?"

She tossed her hair angrily. "Not at all."

He smirked. "So if this is bad karma, what did you do?"

"I'm not the one with the criminal record—what did _you_ do?"

"Me? Something really good, apparently." He laughed at her stumped look. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I can't agree with you on the bad karma thing. If anything, it's _great_ karma." He scooted closer after saying the last part, causing her to fidget.

"Actually, I'll have to thank your dog here," he pointed to Toby, who wagged his tail happily, "because if he didn't run away, you wouldn't have come looking for him. And then you wouldn't have found me."

It looked like she was resisting the urge to twitch. "But he _always_ runs away. Every time we try to give him a bath. And he comes here." She eyed Duncan warily, trying to put more distance between them. "I had just found his leash in the grove when I heard barking—"

Duncan tugged her hair, cutting her off. "Must you try to justify everything?"

Courtney scowled and slapped his hand away. "I'm not justifying, I'm simply—"

"Denying our fate?" She glowered when he smirked triumphantly.

"Why are you so absolutely insufferable?!" she shouted, throwing her arms up.

"Why are _you_ so intent on not accepting my reasoning?"

"Because your reasoning is completely immoderate. And you're not supposed to be here! I was supposed to forget all about that crazy island! It's been a year—life has changed!" Duncan watched with raised eyebrows as she finished her little rant. Anger was a good look for her—she started breathing all heavy and her hair got wispy and her face turned a lovely shade of pink. What? It was hot.

He pondered for a moment, just staring at her. "You _so_ missed me," he concluded, crossing his arms and leaning back, smugness practically radiating off him. It increased when she gaped.

"And how, may I ask, did you determine that?"

"Why else would you be making such a big deal?" He poked her in the forehead, pushing her back slightly. "You just don't want to admit it, which is why all those lame excuses keep spewing outta your mouth."

Courtney stood up, balling her hands into fists indignantly. "That is _not_ true!"

Duncan stood up as well, leaning forward. "Come on, princess. You can't tell me that the first thoughts going through your mind when you saw me sitting here didn't involve a few actions of the kissing sort."

She blushed, narrowing her eyes. "You have the epitome of a one-track mind! Argh! I can't stand you!"

"Don't lie, _darling_, it'll send you straight to—"

"Shuttup! I'm not lying!"

"Right. You're not lying like I'm not on house arrest right now."

Courtney dropped her arms, giving him a panicked look. "You're on house arrest? But…" her eyes widened. "What are you doing out here then! What if you get caught? You could get in so much trouble!"

Duncan smirked, "Awww, you worried? I'm touched."

She prodded him sharply in the chest. "I'm… er… _worried_ that I'll get in trouble—I can't have the cops finding you here with me!"

Even Duncan could see that she was mentally kicking herself for that one. He loved it when he was right. He also loved the fact that she hadn't registered how close their faces were.

"I thought you liked the dark side," he said softly, inching closer. "You liked trouble. Remember? You _liked_ the dark… and I can be _very_ dark."

By now Courtney was frozen, unable to think clearly as his voice coaxed her into an immobile state. Duncan grinned inwardly. Score! He leaned forward and—

Toby barked. Loudly.

Courtney _eep_-ed and immediately stepped back a few feet, eyes wide. Duncan slowly looked down at the dog, feeling a snarl build in his throat.

_Damn freaking dog!_

So close. So effing close! He shot a menacing glare towards the animal, who was oblivious to the hate directed at him as he panted excitedly. He rolled onto his back, exposing his stomach to the two people in deep sexual tension, waiting expectantly.

Courtney exhaled, putting a hand against her chest. _She's probably trying to get her heart rate down to normal_, Duncan thought smugly, attempting to compose himself too. He watched as she calmly sat herself on the ground and began stroking Toby's stomach lightly; the dog seemed to go limp in pleasure.

"Can I ask you something?"

She shot him a tired glare. "That depends."

Duncan snorted. "_Why_ did you name him Toby?" He smiled at her bewildered stare.

"Why? What would you have named him?" she shot back, still scratching the tender belly of her dog.

He shrugged. "Dog?"

Courtney rolled her eyes. "Wow, that's… really not creative. And if you must know, I let my neighbor name him. Besides, what's wrong with the name? It's just a name."

He sat down next to her on the ground, stretching out his legs. "I dunno—you just seem like the type of girl to name her dog _snuffles_, or _rascal_… or something equally as stupid." She tilted her head to the side, a motion which Duncan found disgustingly cute.

"I don't know if I should be insulted or not…" she trailed off in wonder. She got up and brushed herself off, leaving Duncan with a very nice view. She was wearing gym shorts, and her legs looked particularly long from where he was sitting… "Anyway, I think I should go, now."

Duncan scowled when she said this. "You ever consider you think too much?" He reluctantly got up as well.

"Do you ever consider that you don't think enough?" she snapped, clicking Toby's leash on.

He grinned. "Not at all." Pausing as she tugged on the leash to get the dog to his feet, he cocked an eyebrow at her. "You know, if we meet back here tomorrow—without the mutt—maybe we could pick up where we were before the interruption." He let his voice fade suggestively.

Courtney faltered. "Uh… w-we could do that," she stuttered, fumbling with the leash, "but then, I don't plan on ever seeing you again after tonight." She smiled at him innocently.

He put his weight on his back leg, folding his arms behind his back. "Oh, _really_? That may be sorta difficult for you, princess."

She lifted her own eyebrows. "And why would that be?"

Duncan gave her his trademark grin. "Well, we _are_ going to the same school and all…" She paled exceptionally.

"I beg your pardon?"

He chuckled, pointing to the brand that was streaked across the front of her tank top. _Mountainside High_.

"You can't be serious…" she whispered in disbelief, more directed to herself than to him.

"What'd I tell you? Fate."

Courtney stared at him for about five seconds before letting out an extremely frustrated cry and stomping off onto the pathway, muttering incoherent vulgarities. Well, he was guessing that they were vulgar, anyway.

"See ya in class, princess!" he called after her, smirk broadening enough to match the sinister glee growing in his stomach. Her words echoed in his head:

_"I would hardly call this meeting fortuitous."_

Duncan laughed. Not fortuitous his ass.

_Tee hee. Duncan cracks me up._

_You'll be seeing a lot of Courtney's point of view in the next chapter: School Sucks. _


	3. School Sucks

_Holy freaking crap! I love you guys so much! These reviews have lifted my dampened spirits, caused my cheeks to hurt from smiling so much, and prevented me from shirking off on writing. Thank you all!! _

_School has, well, sucked. I had forgotten how much I hated homework. And I still got four years to go after this one! I think I'm going to die a little. Anyway, in this chapter we see the complexities of Courtney's rather indecisive mind. And while they are going to highschool, this story doesn't really focus on highschool life so much as event that occur during the day and throughout the year. I'm going to try and make it as original as I can, and I think it's working pretty well so far--but if it seems a little stereotypical, just wait. It'll get better. _

_(Oh! And **Amethyst Ocean**--I thank you for the banana. Yay for potassium!!)_

Chapter Three

Courtney stared at herself in the mirror of her bathroom, carefully stroking a brush through her hair. She had grown it out a bit past her shoulders, adding layers here and there, and as such, it tended to need a little more attention than it used to. Sighing, she placed the brush on the counter and gripped the edges around the sink, closing her eyes.

_Get a hold of yourself, girl. It's only the first day of school—you always get nervous. Just get over it._

Straightening up, she pulled her shirt to stretch out the wrinkles. _Of course_, she thought bitterly as she grabbed her toothbrush, wetting it under the faucet, _the first day of school has never included Duncan along with it._

She furiously jammed the toothbrush in her mouth, continuing to glare at her reflection. How was it fair? This was her senior year, for Pete's sake! Why did he have to come to muddle it up?! She had promised herself that this year would be perfect; she'd get good grades, sign up for scholarships, date around, look for colleges…

Courtney placed the toothbrush back in its holder and sat down on her bed, promptly collapsing. And then there was the other problem.

The one where she was actually kind of happy.

Groaning, she dragged her hands down her face. It had been a year—over a year! Nothing had happened during it; they had never spoken, and he had definitely made it clear that contact with her wasn't high on his priority list. She had been pretty okay with that—they'd had a good time at the island… it didn't _have_ to continue.

Not to mention that she had spent weeks convincing herself that summer was just all about flings and that it didn't hold any substance. Then, finally, she had gotten back into dating other guys, meeting new people; filling the voids in her life.

It wasn't like it was her fault she missed camp Wawanakwa. The people, most of them, had been great—she even still kept in contact with Bridgette and some of the other girls. But besides those few blissful memories that were fraying through time as they withheld, she had managed to forget.

And then _he_ had to come back and ruin all of her efforts in less than ten seconds.

Courtney sighed, pushing herself up and allowing her feet to drag her over to where she had put her bag and books, bending down to place them inside. It was ridiculous how hard it was for her to pick it up and go downstairs. Her mind was filling with an anxious dread faster than she could focus.

It had been about two weeks since her unplanned rendezvous with Duncan, and she was still hoping that his comment about going to the same school had been a very cruel bluff. She didn't think she could handle the stress of school _and_ a rather persistent juvenile delinquent.

"Courtney, dear?" her mother called from the kitchen just as Courtney finished walking down the stairs. "Are you ready?"

"No…" the mocha-haired girl muttered sullenly, slouching as she entered the kitchen. In fact, if anything, she was even more nervous now that she was out of the comfort of her bedroom.

Her mom raised an eyebrow when she sat down at the table and slammed her face against the top. "Honey…? Is something the matter?"

"I'm so beyond fine, mom. Don't even worry."

"Alright," the older woman replied cheerfully, and Courtney couldn't help but thank the genes that made her mother more oblivious to blatant lies. "Just don't wait too long—you wouldn't want to be late on your first day!"

Late, according to her parents, would be not arriving a half-hour early. Funny… that's how she used to be too. Not that she wasn't still timely, she was merely more… normal, now.

Once her mother had left, Courtney grasped the back of her chair and forced herself up. _Okay, toughen up! Come on, don't be so weak. It's only school, and it's only a boy. A boy against whom you can hold your own. _

That was true…

Courtney almost laughed at the thought. She had been one of the only ones to stand up to Duncan's more frightening personality, and on frequent occasion, no less. Well, her and LeShawna.

…and there was another pang.

_Stop thinking about all of them!_ She shook her head violently. The memories of her fellow campers had been coming in waves the last week, so much that she was practically drowning in them.

"Argh!" She slung her bag over her shoulder and marched to her front door, thrusting it open and stepping outside, making her way towards the sidewalk. There, that wasn't so hard. She sucked in a deep breath of air, clearing her head. Actually, walking to school was a good idea; this way, she could mentally prepare herself.

Now then, what was she going to do about Duncan?

She could ignore him, of course, but he had a knack for getting her attention, usually in a bad way. It tended to be one of his more annoying idiosyncrasies. Then there was the option of avoiding him… yes, that could work. And if she played her cards right, maybe he would just give up on her.

Hmm. Her stomach did a nasty flip-flop at the thought. Okay, _fine_. What if she just gave into his advances?

_Absolutely not._ She would not give him the satisfaction of getting the better of her. Again.

_Would that be so bad?_ a conniving little voice inside her head asked. _He does have a lot going for him, **and** he's a good kisser._ That was always a plus.

But no. Courtney clicked her tongue. She didn't think she could handle all his smug smiles and smirks if she did that. Or if she admitted that he was a good kisser. Hah, that would end in naught but bad for herself and her pride.

Looking ahead, she realized that she had reached the school grounds. She timorously licked her lips, eyes scanning the front of the school. Surprisingly, there were already people there, many that she recognized as well.

Waving to them, Courtney began to release the nervous tension that had been building up in her stomach's core. Maybe she wouldn't even see him at all today! That was a nice thought. That way, she could establish all of her connections and make sure that the avoidance plan advanced into reality.

Lips curving in jubilation, she reached at hand out to push open the doors into the main hall of the school.

"What, no good morning?"

Courtney nearly jumped out of her skin as the voice seemed to come from out of nowhere. She gave Duncan a disbelieving look. Where the _hell_ had he come from?!

He gave her his usual smirk as she stared, giving her a mocking wave with two of his fingers.

She continued to stare for about five more seconds before sharply lifting her hand and slapping herself across the face. Blinking rapidly, Courtney attempted to see past the black dots swimming across the vision. Duncan let out an airy laugh.

"I'm all for masochism, but was that really necessary?"

She sighed. "Just making sure I wasn't dreaming."

His eyes glinted eagerly. "I'm flattered, princess. Am I often in your dreams?" Courtney wondered how he could make such a simple sentence sound so lecherous.

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms. "You're such a—"

"Pig? Pervert? Neanderthal?" He mimicked her and folded his arms, leaning against the wall. "I've heard 'em all before, sweetheart. And I don't think you'll ever beat Owen and his _bambi_ comment."

"—cretin." She raised her chin.

He snorted. "I'll give you props for continuously coming up with new names for me, though."

"Why are _you_ here so early?" she questioned him, disregarding his previous comment. "I would have expected you to show up, well, late."

"Ah, but that was when I wasn't going to the same school as you," he said smoothly, opening the door and grinning at her.

Courtney resisted the urge to slap herself again when she felt the beginnings of a blush spill across her cheeks. She quickly covered it with a huff before walking in, practically feeling his smirk as he came in behind her.

Ugh. She felt so… helpless. Only Duncan could manage to get under her skin and frustrate her to the point of exhaustion after a few comments. Why? _Why?_ It was preposterous.

And also, why was _he_ so effortlessly calm with all of this? Here she was, crossing the line between freaking out and completely losing it and he was acting completely normal, as if seeing an old…_ friend_ was an every day thing! And did he have to keep smirking like that? Didn't he see how much it annoyed her? It was like he was trying to get on her last nerve.

_Well, duh,_ the obnoxious voice in her head drawled out, causing more spikes of irritation to pike in her systems. _He knows how to push your buttons—why would he not take advantage of knowledge like that?_

_Because charming a girl doesn't mean vexing her until she goes insane!_

Hang on. Was that what he was trying to do? Charm her?

Courtney almost snorted at the thought.

"…if you walk any slower, you're going to be late." Looking up at his voice, Courtney was surprised to see that the hall was now filled with students, many of whom were giving her interesting looks as she walked side by side with Duncan. She glanced at him; he was totally eating it all up.

"Late?" she echoed, confused.

He raised an amused eyebrow and pointed to a clock resting on a wall. She nearly had a heart attack. Where had all the time gone?! The bell had rung five minutes ago?!

"Eh?!" She hadn't even heard it ring! Crap. And now she had less than two minutes to get to her first period.

"Don't have a hernia, princess. Class is right down the hall." How could he sound so placid? They were going to be late! This was_ not_ okay.

…wait. He had inferred that he might have been going to the same class. He hadn't specified it as her class, after all.

"_Excuse _me?" she felt her voice crack.

Duncan scoffed and grabbed her wrist. "Come on," he said, sounding exasperated. Courtney's mind was blank upon entering the classroom, barely registering the sound of the final bell as the door closed behind them.

She was finally brought back to the present when she was acutely aware of many pairs of eyes upon her. Flushing, she discreetly yanked her wrist from Duncan's grip and took a seat in the back of the room. She didn't have to look up to know that he had chosen a seat behind her, or that he was very pleased with himself.

Pig.

* * *

Duncan could already hear the whispers.

_"Oooh, who's that?"_

_"Isn't he that one guy from that show…?"_

_"Ohmigosh! You're right! He's soo cute!"_

_"Weird hair…"_

_"I wonder if he could hook me up with that blonde chick…"_

He snorted. People were always so intrigued by the new and the different. That's what change did—it created questions that needed answers. Answers were what the world thrived on.

Looking at the back of Courtney's head, he was amused to see her hand twisted up in her hair, insinuating that she would rather be anywhere but in that seat. Obviously, she could hear the whispers too.

_"Didn't they, like, kiss?"_

Duncan grinned when she slouched lower onto her desk, keeping her head forward and probably closing her eyes. It was funny how overwhelmed by everything she was. This was Courtney, the preppy control freak who never failed to mention the asset that was CIT training. Normally, she'd be making up some sort of excuse to explain whatever situation she was in faster than he could listen.

He drew his eyes away from her when the teacher clapped his hands, getting the attention of the class back. "Alright everyone, settle. Welcome to your new homeroom. Now, we have a few rules and such to discuss, but first, is Duncan Keiths present?"

He lazily raised his hand, leaning back leisurely in his seat.

The teacher, Mr… something, nodded. "I'm assuming you've received your schedule—have the councilors filed a guide for you?"

And now he put part two of his plan into action. He'd just have to wait and see if the princess figured out the first part…

"Nope. They didn't mention anything about a guide." The teacher sighed and muttered something about underdeveloped schooling systems.

"Very well," he said, scanning the classroom. "I'm going to need a volunteer, then."

_Perfect._ Leaning forward, he managed to flick Courtney in the back of the head without anyone noticing. She made an annoyed hissing sound, raising her arm to most likely attempt to smack him in retaliation. Too easy.

"Miss Evans? I appreciate the assistance." Courtney paused mid-turn.

"…huh?"

"You're Mister Keiths' guide around the school for the next few days."

Her jaw dropped. "Y-yes, sir…" she squeaked. Her eyes snapped back to his with such fury that Duncan couldn't help but chuckle. He shrugged innocently at her, a motion that only seemed to increase her rage. She was clenching her jaw so tightly now it looked like she wanted to kill.

Duncan turned his attention to the front board, fully realizing that his ignoring her would only rile her up more. Man… he was brilliant.

--

"You have a twisted, cruel, and sadistic mind."

Duncan smirked. "I try," he said loftily, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked next to a fuming Courtney. "But think of the benefits—you get to spend most of each day with_ me_."

She scoffed, face contorted in a scowl. "Don't flatter yourself."

He couldn't help but feel a bit exuberant. Her temper was more than entertaining, and already being in a tight pair of jeans and a curve-hugging shirt, it only made her that much more appealing.

But even in all her offense, there was something different about her. This morning she had seemed nervous, even anxious, when she saw him. Since when had Courtney ever worried about confronting him? That was practically blasphemy. She was always the one to start some sort of altercation, one of the reasons he liked her so much.

_She's probably still trying to deny the whole fate concept, and worried because it's not working,_ his conscience said confidently.

That was a definite possibility.

"So, sweetheart. You believe in fate now?" He cocked an eyebrow at her when she went rigid.

"This is _not_ fate. This is a blast of horrendous luck for me all because you get some sort of sick pleasure out of annoying me."

Duncan smirked. "As true as that is, I'm still banking it on the fact that our lives are meant to be intertwined together."

"See? That could have been a totally romantic statement… but you made it all mocking and derisive." She exhaled sharply when one of her shoulders was knocked back by a student shoving his way down the hall. She blew a strand of hair out of her face. "We shouldn't even be walking together."

He felt a skeptical look grow on his face. "And why is that?"

"Because, people will start to _assume_ things, and I can't be associated with a juvy-operative." She leveled his amused smile with her own glare. "In fact, we should be at least fifty feet away from each other at all times."

Duncan chuckled. "Sorry, princess, but that's going to be a little impossible." Man, she was hot when she was angry. Had he mentioned that?

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, besides the few AP classes that you're in, our schedules are nearly identical."

He watched as an absolutely horrified look came across her face, causing her to stop walking. What? Was it _that_ big of a shocker? Apparently so.

"Please tell me that you're joking."

"Well… I could, but then I would be lying."

"But, how?!"

Duncan strode next to her and pushed on her shoulder to get her walking again. "You know, that's the funny thing about schools. They think their classification regimens are all blocked out to the rest of the student population." He gave her a crafty smirk. "But they forget there are a few exceptions."

Courtney seemed to be better comprehending the situation now. "So, not only are you a criminal, but you're a computer hacker too?" She shoved him harshly. "Do you realize how simple it would be for them to trace any source of computer breach or rupture back to you?!"

Duncan brought his hand up to his chin for effect. "Really? I had _no_ idea." At her irritated grunt, he shrugged an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, princess. I'm a genius at these kinds of things—been doing them for years."

She put a hand on his side and pushed him away from her. "Don't touch me," she growled. "And I'm not worried."

"Sure you aren't," chirped Duncan delightedly. "But seriously, it's all going according to plan, so you really don't have any need to fret."

Her onyx eyes rolled in exasperation at his persistence. "What plan?" she questioned sulkily.

"My grand master one," Duncan said boastfully. "The first part was aligning our classes; the second part was tricking you into being my _helper_."

"You didn't trick me!" she protested fervently. "You tricked our teacher."

He waved her comment off. "Technicalities, darling."

Courtney's fingers were all but digging into her pants now. "So, what's the third portion of this plan of yours?" He smirked at her impatience.

"You'll see," he drawled happily, looking up towards the ceiling when the warning bell rang. "Oh, and you know my favorite part of _our_ schedule, princess?" Oho… she was gonna be pissed! Excellent!

She gave him a look that basically said, 'No, but you can drop dead if you want to.'

"Coed PE," he said simply. Her face went blank at first, probably trying to think of something vile to say to his provocative tone. She settled with an absolutely disgusted expression aimed at him and walked away with a sharp bluster.

Duncan grinned, turning to where his classroom was. Oh yeah. Life was good.

* * *

_Chapter three DONE!_

_Oh, and for the whole 'same schedule' thing--my friend did it. He's one of those computer prodigy children. Anyway, he wasn't quite satisfied with some of his classes, and he hacked the school system. And get this--he didn't get caught. _

_I know. It boggles the mind. But then, he's also first in the class and scored a 790 on his SAT. Yeah. I want to kill him too._

_The next chapter is more aimed at delving into relationships with other people and 'to-do' things. _


	4. It Never Ends

_Once again, you guys freaking rock my world. Seriously, you don't even know how good it feels to read all your reviews. There is no way to express my thanks!_

_And just to clear a few things up, Courtney will be getting back into her normal, hard-core character soon enough. It must be remembered, however, that she is really overwhelmed by everything, and she doesn't quite know the best way to handle it. Duncan's basically getting all the wins because he's taking the initiative. And there are other reasons that you'll all find out in the later chapters too. _

_But since this IS still the first day of school and everything, Courtney's bad-luck streak will continue. Duncan couldn't let her get off too easy, now, could he?_

Chapter Four

This had officially turned into the day from Hell.

Courtney could already feel the beginnings of a migraine forming; it was not helped by the fact that wherever she seemed to turn, Duncan was right there, spouting something rude or suggestive or _annoying_…

And of course, she could do nothing. Nothing! Now that she was issued to be his 'guide', he had an excuse to be by her side whenever he pleased, and she was thus prevented from filing harassment against him. And even when the few days she was required to 'show him around' were over, it wouldn't be odd to see them together anymore—all a part of his grand master plan, she supposed.

That wasn't even the worst part. People were already starting to wonder about _them_, and not individually either. _Who_ bothered to remember two insignificant teens from a year-old reality show?!

Most of her school, apparently.

Sighing, Courtney struggled to hide a cringe as she continued walking on the sidewalk towards her home when she remembered the physical education portion of the day. First off, it wasn't her fault that her school suddenly required one more PE credit in order to graduate. Second, what kind of school necessitated PE uniforms that seemed to go against the dress code?

She must have sinned—that was the only explanation. And now a sadistic god was punishing her… and/or rewarding Duncan. He certainly seemed to enjoy looking at her little shorts and fitted t-shirt; however, he didn't mind staring at the other girls, either.

_You're jealous… _snickered that evil voice in her head. Courtney tightened her jaw.

Hah—that was funny. Her? Jealous? Not even a little bit. She just felt bad for all those other girls who had to put up with the Neanderthal's peeking eyes. Yeah. That was it.

"Courtney! Wait up!" The brunette turned around to see her friend Ali running after her. Finally… a breath of fresh air. She hadn't been able to talk to any of her friends the whole day; the reasons why were obvious enough.

"Hey, Ali," Courtney muttered tiredly. The blonde raised an eyebrow.

"Er, Court, you do realize that you almost walked into a pole, right?"

"…I did?" Huh. Normally she was quite perceptive. It was all Duncan's fault—him and his stupid _plan_.

Ali laughed, linking her arm with Courtney's as she started to pull them forward. "Are you alright? I didn't really see you today—you were always with that new guy." Courtney scowled. "Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately." She hesitated. "Uh, do you remember that one reality show I was on?"

Ali's brown eyes narrowed in confusion. "Yeah, but what's that got to…" she trailed off, understanding lacing her tone as an excited grin grew on her lips. "He's that one guy! The hot one!"

Courtney blanched. She gave her friend a flabbergasted stare.

"What? He is." Ali did a weird little skip. "And you totally kissed him!"

"_Shhh!_" Courtney stopped walking and did a double take, making sure there was nobody close by. Ali rolled her eyes at the antics. "I don't need to be reminded!"

"So, let me get this straight. The guy you had a huge _thing_ with is now going to our school, and you're… bummed?"

"If by bummed you mean completely distraught, then, yes."

Ali stopped walking and took Courtney's face in her hands. "There is something wrong with you, my friend."

Courtney scoffed and grabbed Ali's wrists, taking her hands away from her face before going to sit on the grass under a tree that was at the entrance to the small neighborhood park. She kneaded the blades of grass through her fingers, eyes shifting to Ali's when the blonde sat next to her.

"It's just… I don't know."

"The guy was following you around like a lost puppy all day! How can you not know?"

"He can hardly be considered something as innocent as a 'puppy'," murmured Courtney disdainfully. She twirled a piece of grass between two of her fingers idly.

"That's beside the point," Ali said authoritatively, sitting up from her position. "Do you like him?"

Courtney squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable. Did she like him? Well, she had, on the island, but then it had faded, hadn't it? The whole 'crush' thing seemed so long ago, and yet she could remember it as vividly as if it had happened yesterday—the images coursing through her mind over and over in a terribly perverse way only made it more graphic.

Granted, it had been an odd choice, on her part, but she had still fallen for the delinquent. Hard, too. But then, as she had told Duncan in the park, it had also been affected through everything happening on the island; she barely had time to register what had been going on with the challenges, let alone consider the possibility of herself and Duncan as a 'couple'. It just seemed right… at the time.

But after everything that had occurred this last year…

"You freaking like him."

Courtney blinked. "I didn't even say anything!" she protested, glaring slightly.

Ali smirked knowingly. "You didn't have to—the awkward silence provided all I needed to know." Her smile faded slightly. "Courtney… you aren't this indecisive, like, ever. Is this because of what happened to your sister?"

"No," Courtney emphasized zealously. "Collette's situation was completely… different." Feh. That was a lie if anything. But there was no way she could be basing her situation with Duncan off of her sister's own incident—that would be silly and rudimentary.

Ali rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Then tell me what you don't like about him."

_That's an easy one._

"He's gone to juvy—"

"Oooh, he's dangerous. That's attractive."

"He's an immature pervert—"

"What do you call the rest of the male population?"

"We have nothing in common—"

"You ever hear the term, 'differences complete'?"

Courtney glared at the girl next to her. "And he hacked the school system to change our schedules so they're practically the same!"

Ali sat up, a star-struck expression on her face. "He did?! That's so sweet! I wish a guy would risk his entire education for me!" Courtney let out a strangled sort of shout.

"_How_ am I supposed to tell you all the things I don't like about him if you keep making them seem so… okay?"

"Because they kinda are—excluding the juvy thing. And really, if there are so many things you 'dislike' about him, then you must have even more that you adore." Ali silenced Courtney's sudden sputtering with a hand. "I remember watching the show, Court. If anything, he was pretty smooth."

Onyx orbs widening to their max, Courtney could only gape at her friend. It was appalling. Duncan had managed to corrupt her friend, and they hadn't even met. He was devious, all right.

But then, it was probably all a part of his _plan_, wasn't it?

* * *

_2…4…7…3…click!_

Duncan chuckled darkly as he quickly linked the newly unhooked chain around a different bike, poking it through the spokes and threading it across yet another lock. Thrusting a key into a different pad, he unlocked it and then proceeded to link two separate chains together before clicking it back into place.

Okay, it wasn't as risky as some of his other stuff, or as fun, but it would satisfy the need to do _something_. And making a jumbled mess out of all the chains and locks stored in the janitors closet—though, why there was an excess in those particular items, he had no clue—around all of the bikes held in the school yard was 'something'.

He was a master at unlocking things; no combination had been able to stump him yet. And this scene would most definitely put his talent to good use. It had been easy to get out of class early to do this, and the security around the school was pretty lax during the last hours of the day.

Snorting, Duncan brushed off his hands and slung his pack over his shoulder, walking out of the gated area like nothing had happened.

He casually glanced around—the yard was empty. Well, except for some nerdy-looking kid pushing a cart filled with laptops and computer wires. And all he seemed to notice was how those wires were extremely tangled up; he was swearing, anyway.

Duncan smiled slyly. Already he could see it; the frenzied students trying to unlock their rides home in vain, futilely fighting one another as attempts at cornering the culprit failed miserably. And at the very least, it would cause drama for the counseling office.

Chaos was his middle name, after all.

Besides, he'd find more worthwhile vandalism-outings and crimes to hit the school with. This was just a starter; a taste at the tantalizing trouble he would soon cause. That is, if the princess didn't keep him preoccupied well enough.

Using his arms to pull himself up, Duncan expertly flung his lower body over the top of the wall before falling to the ground, unlocking his knees to ensure the best landing. Cracking his neck, he went back to walking, dropping one of the keys he had stored in his pockets into a small bush at the base of a tree.

Ah yes. Courtney. It was truly remarkable to him how utterly intrigued by her he was. This was partly due to the fact that he usually paid no attention to girls like her. He supposed it was her temper that first caught his attention…

At first it had been a challenge. No one else on their team would bother arguing with him, being either too scared or not interested enough to care to fight. Not Courtney—she'd be right in his face, telling him straight up what the problem was, or what _his_ problem was.

And _man_, did he like a challenge.

Then he started to notice all these little… quirks about her. They were quirks that caught his attention physically and mentally; like the fact that she was _really_ cute when she pouted, and how she liked to make up excuses to hide things. Hence her phobia incident.

Duncan snickered quietly at that. He let two more keys drop into a sewer when he walked by the gutter on the sidewalk. Looking up, he could already see his new house coming into view and rolled his eyes when he noticed his parole officer's car parked in front of the driveway.

It was like the guy didn't have a life of his own.

Moving up to the open window with a quick stride, Duncan bent down slightly to see inside, raising an eyebrow when he saw that "the great" officer Loonell had fallen asleep in his seat, snoring lightly with his cap tipped precariously over his eyes.

Smiling devilishly, Duncan palmed the horn of the car harshly, laughing when the man seemed to choke on his own snores as he jumped to a more awake state. He eyed Duncan blearily, rubbing his head.

"You know that I'm still granted the authority to lock you in your room for days at a time?" he burbled gruffly, voice slurred as he struggled to gain a full consciousness.

"You know that I'm still able to break out even with all your 'extra' supervising?"

"Watch the smart-mouthed comments, _boy_."

Duncan snorted as he turned to go towards the door of his house. "Whatever you say, Officer _Loon_," he muttered, making sure to be loud enough for the man to hear.

"Make fun of my name one more time, kid! I dare you!"

Cheerfully flipping the already-pissed policeman off, Duncan slammed the door shut, chuckling as he walked down the hallway and into his room.

A blotchy-black color met his eyes as he entered, and his nose was hit by the almost noxious smell of new paint. It had taken him a while, but finally the walls were finished. He glanced over at the pile of spray cans thrown sloppily into a makeshift trash—aka, a big plastic bag hanging off the door to his closet.

Spray-painting was faster than a brush. And well, it added the right texture. The inky background wasn't smooth, but rather an explosion of paint particles, darker in some spots than others; and it made detailing much more dramatic.

Hands grasping a ladder folded against one wall, Duncan kicked it open and placed it in front of his door, grabbing another can of paint—this one red. His eyes followed the thick red lines and curves that looked like they were protruding from the ceiling as they formed a giant skull, the black of the walls making it stand out exponentially.

He was almost done, but had yet to complete one of the skull's eye sockets. Quickly strapping a thin mask over his nose and mouth, he stepped up further on the ladder to reach his destination, putting more finger pressure on the tip of the sprayer when he wanted a thicker and richer color.

Leaning more to the left to add more of a tilt to his creation, Duncan frowned when the spray wouldn't… spray. He brought the can next to his ear, shaking it. Weird… there was still a lot of paint left.

Sighing, he spun the cap off and—

Suddenly his door was thrust open, forcefully hitting the ladder and causing Duncan to fall unceremoniously to the floor after loosing his balance.

"_Ouch!_" he hissed, rubbing his now thoroughly bruised head. He tenderly opened his mouth and winced, tasting a small amount of blood. He'd freaking bit his tongue! "Why the hell did you…." He choked back a laugh.

Loonell was standing in the doorway, red paint dripping down from his stained face. His shoulders were covered in the goop as well, the empty can rolling on the ground innocently.

The graying man clenched his jaw, lips curling into a snarl. _"Explain this!"_

"Simple," started Duncan arrogantly, "you made me waste my last can of paint. You should really learn to knock first, ya know?" He pushed himself up and grabbed his wallet off the desk that was positioned away from the still drying wall. "Now, if you'll excuse me, _sir_, I've got to go buy some more."

Saluting the furious (yet speechless) officer, Duncan didn't waste time in hurrying out of the room. "Later!" he called back.

Once he was free from his anger-stricken babysitter, the expert delinquent was hit with the realization that the store was kind of far away. And he didn't have a mode of transportation.

Duncan heaved a sigh. Well, if he ever fixed up his bike, an old Harley, he would. Unfortunately for him, parts were scarce. Er… cheap parts were scarce. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strayed more to the inside of the sidewalk, trying to ignore the late afternoon heat as he attempted to stay in the more shaded regions.

_At least the walk will buy me some time away from the maniac,_ he thought dully.

Seriously, the guy needed to lighten up.

…kinda like someone else he knew.

* * *

Sputtering at the sensation of a rough, slobbery tongue lapping at her face like it was a bowl of water, Courtney blindly brought her hands up to protect her victimized skin, one hand finding her dog's snout and pushing him away.

"Bwah! Bad dog!" she scolded, sitting up from her once comfortable position atop her bed. She wiped at her nose and eyes, cringing as glops of drool were flung off.

Toby leapt to the floor, panting in excitement. Courtney frowned at him. Was a nap too much to ask for? She looked at the clock, deflating when it only showed a ten minute difference from the last time she checked.

She heard a knock at her door. "Courtney? I need you to go to the post office and mail a package for me." It was her mom.

Courtney sighed. "Just leave it near our mailbox—it'll be picked up."

"No, this is too fragile! I need it to be specially delivered."

Rolling her eyes, the mocha-haired girl clambered out of her spot and opened her door, only to have a large box shoved into her arms.

"Thank you, dear!" her mother beamed, turning around and walking back down the stairs. Scowling, Courtney shook the box… and heard glass tingling. _Freaking A_. Only her mother would send what sounded like a chandelier. She looked over at Toby, who was now making himself comfortable on _her_ bed.

"…You're a real swindler, you know that?"

He barked.

"Whatever," Courtney muttered, heaving the box to the side of her hip before exiting her room. She was so not in the mood for this. It had already been a long day, and she just wanted to lie in her room and sulk. But apparently that wasn't going to happen. Sucked for her.

It didn't take long until she was parking in the small lot cornered outside of the postal office. Being _extremely_ careful with her mother's package, Courtney expertly maneuvered herself out of the car and into the building, annoyed when the automatic doors showed a lacking in the automatic portion of the term.

Shoving her back against one of the "Push" doors off to the side, she managed to successfully reach the countertop before plopping the box down. Sighing in relief, she turned to the woman at the desk, who was reading a magazine and popping her gum in a way that made Courtney cringe each time.

"Um… excuse me? I need to mail this…"

The woman looked up, bored, snapping at her gum, and examined the box. She scoffed. "Those are the wrong stamps." Courtney stared.

"Aren't most stamps the same?"

"Absolutely not! I can't mail this without the correct stamping." She looked appalled.

Courtney's face twitched when the woman's chewing resembled a cow and its regurgitated cud. She cleared her throat. "So… do you have the 'correct stamping' here? I could fix it."

She gave a raspy laugh. "No."

"…A post office doesn't have any stamps handy?"

The woman _tch_-ed and pointed to the exit sign. "There's a store across the street. Buy some," she said, as though she were talking to an inept five-year-old.

_Oh! I am so filling out one of those complaint cards!_

Huffing, Courtney pushed her box to the side of the counter, grumbling, "I'll be right back," before marching out the doors and across the street. Honestly! The manners of some people! It was like the employee had never heard the term "The customer is always right"! How infuriating.

The doors to the store slid open with a small _ding_ sound, and security camera's showed the footage of herself entering the store on a series of television sets hung from the ceiling. Shoulders slumping at how big the store actually was, she trudged over to a poster that listed where all items were and what isle they could be found in.

Finger scrolling down the list, Courtney found what she was looking for and spun around, nose crashing into a hard shoulder.

_Holy shi… shamrock socks!_ She clutched her nose, bitterly thinking of how proud her mom would be. She didn't swear—not even in her head! Hah!

"Watch it… _hey_! Fancy meeting you here, sweetheart."

Holy mother of crickets. Why her?

Courtney pinched the bridge of her nose and glared at him. Duncan. Oh yeah—her luck was definitely running short these days. "Why do you keep showing up in my life?!" Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best reaction she'd ever had. But it was a good question, nonetheless!

Duncan held his hands up in defense. "I swear I didn't follow you here." He reached into a bag and pulled out a can of paint. "I just needed this. Not that it isn't a _lovely_ surprise, of course…"

Courtney raised a suspicious eyebrow, looking from him to the spray paint he held in his hand. "You know what? I don't even care." She spoke again as he opened his mouth. "And if you say anything about this _meeting _being fate, I swear I'll castrate you with a spoon."

His eyes widened before a very amused expression overtook his face. "You're threatening the master of intimidation, princess. Besides, if anything, it's more of a turn on coming from you."

She felt the indignation pour into her stomach once more. "You're repulsive! And to think, there's already a fan-club of girls worshiping you!" He snickered at this.

"What? I can't help it if I'm irresistible." He brushed his nails across his shirt for dramatic effect. "_You_ think so too."

Courtney snorted. "As if. _I_ think you're barbaric and unbearable."

Duncan smirked. "And _I _think you're really hot." Courtney could feel her nose scrunch at the comment. "But I do love a good chase."

"Then you better be prepared to run a _long_ distance." Whoaaa…. that almost seemed… flirty. Like she was going along with his 'suave' comments. This was not okay with her.

He waved it off, insinuating that it was nothing. "Please. I run from my parole officer every day. You hardly have a chance." He looked at the clock above the sliding doors. "Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if he came in his little flashing car to come find me soon."

"Why would he be looking for you?" asked Courtney in her most admonishing tone.

"It wasn't really _my_ fault, but I dropped a whole can of paint on him. The old codger's probably steamed." He seemed to find the whole situation rather funny. But then, he had a lot of twisted views about life…

"You spilled paint on your _parole officer_, and now you're running? That's so—"

"Bad?" Duncan offered mockingly, the sarcasm causing her anger to bubble even more.

"Yes!"

He chuckled. "You're just jealous because you want to be bad, just like me. But you're prissiness doesn't allot for you to." Courtney wondered if he knew what he was saying.

"I have no desire to 'be bad'," she sniffed. "That's just your deluded mind—"

And then, as if by some horrible twist in reality, the song "I Wanna be Bad" started to play in the store's speakers. It echoed throughout the whole area; ringing torturously in Courtney's head. She could already feel the blush seeping through her skin as the lyrics were spun off.

"Not a word," she said dangerously to Duncan, whose mouth had already formed the word 'fate'. He grinned cockily at her, crossing his arms.

"I wasn't gonna say anything, _darling_." Liar.

It was only after he had left, going to 'beat the loon home', and after she had gotten into her car, with that terrible, terrible song stuck in her head, that Courtney realized something.

She had forgotten to buy the stamps.

* * *

_They're so my favorite. _

_Oh, and btw, I'm leaving out of town for a few days this weekend and probably won't be able to get the next chapter posted in time, so either my cousin, Shinjiru(who graciously shares this account with me)will be benevolent enough to do it for me, or I'll post it as soon as I get back! _

_Thanks again to all my reviewers! (and a special shout out to **Gabbiez**,** HannahHollywood**,** cartoonfire**,** Amethyst Ocean**,** Suchichica**,** Forest Scion**,and **Neochick **for giving me reviews that made me all warm and fuzzy inside) _

_I adore you ALL!!_


	5. And so it Begins

_Wow. I'm beat. Seriously, I meant to get this chapter up earlier, but I didn't have the time. Like... at all. These last few days were killer at school, and I just took a six hour **practice** ACT test. I have to take the REAL one next week. Whoopdi-freaking-doo. _

_Anyways, thank you for all your reviewing yet again! I think I'm going to start doing review-responses, so ask me anything you want, and comment on anything you want. You guys are my sustenance. _

Chapter Five

Colon Stands was just your average high school student. He wasn't particularly good-looking, but he wasn't completely unattractive either. He had a light brown coloring to his hair and was registered in the 'tall and lanky' department. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses hooked over his nose and pale blue eyes stared out from behind the barriers.

In fact, if anyone looked at him, they wouldn't really look—he was just one of those every day people; you know, the ones that most of the world was made up of.

However, one crucial thing about Colon was that he did look. When all other people would merely glance, he would observe.

He would observe because in reality, there couldn't just be an every-day person. He would observe because there was more to people than just the stereotypical ordinariness. He would observe because each person had something about them, a habit or quirk that made them different—just like how he observed.

This was why Colon liked filming people; or watching people be filmed. One of his favorites was the classic reality show. They were just every-day people shoved together in a not-so-every-day situation. That's when they started to stand out. And that's what made people so interesting, when suddenly, they weren't faced with the ordinary, but something else.

Of course, just because he had a certain knack didn't exclude him from sharing many traits with the other average male high school students his age. One of those traits was especially joined—the liking of average female high school students.

So, when chance provided him with an opportunity to, ah, _observe_ a lovely teenage girl running in scandalous attire, who was he to pass it up? Not all filming had to be substantial to his talents; it was perfectly normal to use acquired aptitudes and aim them towards his advantage.

Who would have thought that his testosterone and hormones could have led him to spur forth one of his greatest ideas?

Not to mention take him to some very intriguing subjects.

It wasn't surprising to see people in a park, watching the sunset. But it was surprising to see two ex-reality-show-stars arguing in a park, about _fate_, no less.

Colon couldn't help but agree with the boy and his idea of fate—for what but fate could have guided him to his greatest project? Even while he rounded his lens cap and set up the recording, he didn't allow his excitement to stop growing.

Reality shows were fun to watch, but those people unlucky enough to land within their confines faced the one fault Colon found in the shows. They _knew_ there were cameras watching their every move.

So, what would happen if they didn't know? Technically, they were still ordinary people. But they were ordinary people who were once again thrust into an extraordinary situation.

Besides, the same thing never happened twice.

Not exactly, anyway.

* * *

It was like that ancient form of torture the Chinese used. The one where their victim would be strapped down so tightly any movement was restricted. It was dubbed 'water torture'.

The victim would be forced to feel single drops of water tapping onto their forehead. Now, this doesn't seem to be so bad—most are deluded into thinking that it could have been easily ignored. It's _only_ water dripping down, after all.

That was why those 'deluded' into thinking that were actually deluded. See, when the water drops breech the line between incessant and totally unceasing, the victim's mind begins to go haywire. Being strapped down prevented them from doing anything but sit through the beats and rhythms of the water drops; the urge to shake the face free of the liquid or smudge it off were completely hindered.

The Chinese were a crafty bunch—they knew that the mind required only the simplest means to break. Physical torture would only go so far, and if they tackled the mind first, the rest would be near-effortless.

And while Courtney had never experienced this torture in its exact definition, she had a parallel that was its facsimile.

She was the victim, and Duncan was the water that continuously dripped onto her face; the water that she was never able to wipe off.

In other words, she was going insane.

"Come on, princess… do you really want to spend all of lunch in the _library_?" Duncan practically hissed out the last word, as if it were some kind of taboo.

Courtney, sitting across from him at one of the many tables dotting the enclosed area, bit down on her tongue to keep from yelling. He had followed her in here and had probably complained in every single way humanly possible. "For the last time," she seethed quietly. "I am _studying_! This is what people do when they're faced with a test that takes up almost a quarter of their grade!"

He scowled and grabbed the book she was taking notes from, pushing it off the table. Courtney shot him one of her _looks_, unfortunately, he was impervious to them. "So study at home. _That's_ what people do when they want to enjoy the one free hour of school."

He stood up and leaned forward, placing his hands on the table top. "Besides," he started, continuing to edge forward, "don't you want to do something more… interesting?"

She hardly even thought about her actions before another book was in her hand and slammed upon his unprotected fingers. A jolt of satisfaction went zigzagging through her systems when he cringed and jumped back.

"This _is_ interesting," she insisted, sniffing.

Duncan swore under his breath, flexing his fingers slowly. He gave Courtney a bored look. "You're broken," he stated, his eyes suddenly getting a gleam to them, "which is why you should let me _fix _you."

Courtney narrowed her own eyes. "You're horrible."

He grinned, putting his weight on his elbows and sliding forward. "No, I'm charming."

"You're the polar opposite of charming!" Well, this wasn't really true. At all. He could be very smooth when he wasn't being synchronously perverted. Hmm… his eyes looked really blue today—had the table always been this small? He seemed awfully close…

Courtney cut her jittered thoughts off, reaching for the book on the ground and pursing her lips. She quickly turned to the page she had been on, intent on ignoring the obnoxious delinquent in front of her. She hadn't even begun to read when a hand grabbed the bottom of her chin, making her look up.

Oh yeah. He was _really_ close.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked suavely, running his thumb just below her still-pursed lips. Pursed being the key word.

Now, this was normally when the little beeping sirens in her head went off. But for some utterly _farcical_ reason, her mind still hadn't left the whole 'Oooh! Look at how blue his eyes are!' and therefore was having difficulty processing what was happening. Not to mention, he had some sort of musky scent about him, and she could've sworn that it was clogging her senses.

_Snap out of it! NOW!_

Blinking rapidly, her eyes finally registered Duncan's dreadfully amused expression at her inability to answer combined with her deer-in-the-headlights stare. Crap. Ah… here came the blush.

"Stop it!" Courtney growled at him, clamping her own hand around his wrist and pulling it away from her face. She let her back fall against her seat defensively.

"Stop what?" he asked, basking in an infuriating glow of mock-innocence. She had to fight the sudden feeling she was hit with to smack him.

"Just… that, er… that thing you do!" Wow Courtney. Way to sound intelligent.

He made his chair lean back so that it was on only two legs, putting his arms behind his head. "You mean stop seducing you?"

_"Yes!"_

Duncan snorted at her outburst, letting another one of his eminently infamous smirks take its hold upon his face. "Sorry sweetheart, but you are pretty seducible."

She felt a vain throb in her head. _No way…_ Her jaw clenched in indignity. "Did you just call me… _easy_?" She could practically feel the anger seep out of her voice.

His smirk broadened, piercings glinting in the light. "In a manner of speaking. Yeah."

Taking a breath, Courtney straightened out her facial features, attempting to appear calm. Sitting up in her own chair, she met his challenging his stare with her own.

And then promptly kicked the front of his chair, sending him crashing to the ground.

She smiled when he let out a pained grunt, probably resulting from his head meeting the floor. Gathering up her items and placing them into her bag, she pushed her own seat back and stood up, dusting off the fronts of her pants.

"Oops," she said dryly, "my bad. But _really_, Duncan. It's _rude_ to lean back in your chair like that." Her voice was dripping with great portions of lovely sarcasm.

"Perhaps you should brush up on your manners?" she offered, walking out.

There were sometimes pauses—blissful, memorable, and grand pauses—between the millions of drops of water.

* * *

She was being difficult again.

The bell had just rung, signifying the end of classes for the day. Having sixth period with Courtney, Duncan had caught up with her, as he always managed to, and was now trying, once more, to persuade her to do something. And today, being Friday, that something happened to be a new bar opening.

"It'll be fun! Don't be such a prude." He lazily kept within her hustling stride, obviously ticking her off more. His lips quirked at the memory of lunch earlier this afternoon. It wasn't his fault she was so fun to egg on. "And my head still hurts—you owe me."

"Duncan," began Courtney slowly, searching for something in her bag, "I will not go to a bar—especially not with you. And I owe you nothing." She frowned at something on her phone after she pulled it out, clicking a few buttons.

"Problems?" he asked loftily, snickering inwardly when she practically hissed at him for looking over her shoulder.

"Nothing that concerns you," she declared, flipping her phone shut and zipping her bag.

Duncan raised his eyebrows but let it go. "Okay, fine. But seriously, the bar thing—"

"Will be a complete waste of my time," she snapped, cutting him off. "And in case your little mind hasn't clicked with the concept that we're underage, let me be the first to tell you that I don't intend to break the law." She eyed him narrowly. "Or be around you when you're _drunk_."

Tch. "You say it like it's some kind of sin." Okay. Bad choice in words.

Courtney gave him a skeptical look, folding her arms. He put his own arms behind his back. "And believe it or not, princess, I don't drink. That's for people who _regret_ what they've done…" he finished cockily, grinning at her darkening stare.

He casually leaned his elbow on her shoulder. "But it's sure one helluva laugh to watch all those losers make idiots of themselves." His grin became more of a smirk. "Actually… I've always wondered what _you_ would be like smashed."

She couldn't hide her lips curling in an effort to stop a twitch. "Uh…" Heh, he always liked it when she failed at a comeback. It always made him want to push his luck. Like now.

"I've wondered about a _lot _of things, sweetheart…" He could feel her stiffen through his arm, which was still positioned against her shoulder. The cruel giddiness was bubbling in his stomach again when he saw the lovely blush spread across her cheeks. She appeared to be having difficulties in finding a name to call him.

Of course, Duncan knew what such an 'innocent' statement could entail; he could practically see her panic as she thought through all the possible things he'd _wondered_ at. And he was enjoying every second of it. Not maliciously… well, kinda—but more of the knowing kind of enjoyment. And please, it wasn't like she didn't _wonder_ things too.

"Cat got your tongue, babe?" he asking teasingly, his fingers brushing the ends of her hair playfully.

She looked over at him, a weird expression on her face. "Do you have Chinese blood in you?"

Duncan blinked. "…what?"

Normally her responses were more… well, not like that.

He felt her hand shove at his chest so that he was pushed away; his elbow fell limply to his side. She shook her head, mumbling something about 'water'. Maybe all the studying she was doing was fouling her mind. See? He was only looking out for her—a nice visit to the bar would do her wonders.

Courtney's odd expression faded into her usual annoyed one. He shot her a sly smile, brain scanning through all of his witty comments stored for times like these. Preparing to open his mouth, Duncan's peripheral vision caught a glimpse of some gangly kid tripping on the sidewalk step and falling in a very unceremonious way—probably trying to protect the laptop he was holding.

He snorted, pointing over Courtney's shoulder to direct her attention. "Official RN spotted," he snickered, eyes flashing in humor when the kid actually turned around to glare at the curb.

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly so that her hair fell over one shoulder in a way that made the word _cute _zip through his head. Man… "RN?" she questioned, placing a hand on her hip.

"Resident Nerd," Duncan explained seriously, cracking his knuckles.

Courtney scowled. "Don't be so mean," she admonished, in that wannabe-adult tone he blamed her entire CIT experience for. He vaguely wondered what she would be like if she had never let those idiot trainers mold her into all her uptight glory. Well, she'd probably be close to the same. _Maybe _less bossy, though.

"Mean? _Me_? Princess—I didn't know you were such a sycophant. You flatter me, seriously."

Her brow furrowed. "Careful, Duncan. I think your vocabulary is breeching your mental capacity."

He could feel his grin stretch across his lips. "Nah—you're just prone to underestimating anything and everything that doesn't live up to all your 'pole-in-ass' standards." Bingo. Her nose was already scrunching up in anger. His mind wandered back to the kitchen challenge on the island.

_'I'm like the most laid-back person I know!'_

It was funny how much she lied. Okay, so maybe she didn't _think_ she was lying, not consciously, anyway. But still, it was fun to burst her obnoxiously happy bubble every once in a while; heaven _forbid_ that her deluded little mind remained deluded.

But here was when something interesting happened.

Taking a breath, Courtney allowed her shoulders to fall gently into a more relaxed position. "So, you think I underestimate you?"

She wanted to play. _Excellent_. "All the time," he said back, his smirk widening. "Darling, you don't know _half_ of what I'm capable of." She seemed to be contemplating something now. His fingers twitched eagerly by his sides.

"Then prove me wrong." Her voice was cool and confident. Duncan cocked an eyebrow when she pulled out a hand-sized calendar. She pointed to a date a week away. "Next Friday, when we have our psychology test," her nail clicked the hardened paper, "you will proceed to get a ninety-three percent or above."

He scoffed, throat tickling at the sensation. "And _why_ would I do that? I could care less about some stupid—"

"I bet that you couldn't."

A muscle under Duncan's eye twitched. Ah… the magic word. She knew him too well. "Oh, _really_…?" He folded his arms smugly, leering at her.

Courtney smiled, eyes lidded in her 'know-it-all' stare. "I think my underestimations of you are usually correct; however, I'll admit that I'm wrong if you can do it."

He smirked. She may have known how to reel him in, but she _didn't_ know who she was dealing with. "Alright. I'll take you up on that offer. But—" he raised a finger "—it'll cost you more than just admitting you're wrong."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Fine. What are your demands?"

"That's what makes this more interesting, princess. I ain't telling you."

A less-than-amused look stole across her face. "Well, I'm sorry, but I can't participate until I know the leveling grounds."

"What—you mean you're scared?" As cliché as that question was, it was all he needed.

"Not even. I just—"

"Don't want to be proven wrong." He made his voice as arrogant as he could, enjoying the mix of emotions that spanned through her expressions as she obviously failed at one-upping him.

She hesitated, and Duncan could feel himself actually leaning forward in anticipation as her steely eyes fixed upon his. "You're on."

_Hook, line, sinker._

This was gonna be fun.

* * *

"Do you not comprehend the letters 'A-S-A-P'?"

Courtney sighed as Ali continued to rant about how she had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes and how it was an unsaid duty that best friends opted for that they always, always come to the aid of the other when an urgent text message is forwarded.

The blonde's voice hitched in volume. "I mean, what if there had been a guy with a gun, and you took your freaking time in coming to my rescue? I could be dead. _Dead_."

Turning her eyes toward the ceiling, Courtney scratched the back of her head. "But, Allora dear, you're _not_ dead, and while you did indeed mention that I needed to be somewhere ASAP, that somewhere was in your room—so, forgive me if I'm wrong, but I doubt a homicidal lunatic, if he _were_ in your room, would only scare you into sending me a text."

"A homicidal lunatic might as well have been there!" Ali snarled, grabbing scissors and walking towards a pile of notes placed neatly on her small desk. "Maybe gunfire could get rid of these more efficiently!" Courtney grabbed her friend's hand before any damage could be done.

"Is a break up really worth destroying all those memories?" she reasoned sagely, taking the pointy object away from Ali and putting it behind her back.

Ali scowled, glaring. "It wasn't _just_ a break up. He_ dumped_ me!"

Courtney licked her lips nervously. "Yeah… but didn't you dump him three weeks ago?"

"That was totally different!"

"…Um…"

Ali crossed her arms stubbornly. "Okay, so maybe I overreacted a little then, but still! How could he be so insensitive?!"

Courtney sighed again, sitting down on Ali's bed while the girl raged some more. Personally, she didn't care for drama—it was way too tiring. Probably it was why the worst of her tended to be brought out on the island. Even now, the same spikes of annoyance began to poke around in her head.

"Don't worry, Ali," she started, holding up a hand before the angry girl could respond. "I'm sure Connor will come up to you sooner than later, begging you to take him back." Actually, Ali wasn't above begging either. It happened quite frequently.

_Like every time they break up._

Her statement seemed to calm the blonde down, as she deflated and went to sit next to Courtney, the bed curving into toward the middle as more weight was added.

"So… why were you late, then?" Her voice held curiosity blended with a little affront.

"It's not like I didn't want to come and comfort you immediately," said Courtney hurriedly, smoothing her shirt. "I was just caught in a… present engagement"

Ali snorted at the choice in words, sitting up so that she could prop herself further with an elbow. "Would that 'present engagement' happen to involve a certain green-mohawk-ed punk?"

Courtney frowned. "Unfortunately."

"What happened this time?" Courtney felt slightly insulted that exasperation laced the tone of her friend's voice.

"He was being unbearable—I swear, one day his head is going to explode due to inflation—and I made a bet with him."

Ali sat straight up. "You _bet_ him? Why?!"

"Because I want to gloat!" Courtney also sat up, frowning at the wall.

"Gloat about what?"

"How I'm right in all of my assumptions of him."

Ali snorted out loud, "Oh, so this is a matter of pride?" She continued before Courtney had a chance to protest. "Hang on—didn't he prove you wrong when you guys were on that island? You know, when he found that little animal for your other teammate?"

Courtney 'pffed' and stood up, running a hand through her hair. "That was different. It was basic human nature then. And please, if there was a bet that Duncan could lose, it would be this one."

Quirking an eyebrow, Ali motioned for her to continue. "I told him that if he actually studied and did something other than harass me, managing to get a ninety-three percent or higher on a test, I would admit to being wrong."

This wasn't to be taken lightly. Courtney was _always_ right. When it counted, anyway.

"And he accepted?" the blonde asked skeptically. "What are the terms?"

Courtney shrugged. "He won't tell me his, but I'm planning on banning his total and utter existence from my life for the rest of the year. Which means," she said happily, "that he will be under vow to never speak to me again!"

"Whoa—hold up." Ali frowned, pushing herself off the bed and walking in front of Courtney. "Do you mean to tell me that you don't know what he _could_ win?"

"Why does it matter? It's not like his going to."

"But he might," she whispered warningly. "Think of what he could make you do!"

Courtney scoffed. "Oh please. As if I would consent to doing anything over the top." It wasn't like Duncan was a _complete_ sadist, after all.

_You're joking, right?_ Courtney bit the inside of her cheek when the same little voice spoke up in a tone of disbelief. _This is the guy who convinced you to steel. And that wasn't even upon losing a bet! He doesn't have to get your consent to do what he wants!_

Huh. Okay, so maybe she had let her pride get the better of her. It wasn't like it didn't happen to everyone! Her mind had merely assumed that he would get her to go to that stupid bar or something like that if he won…

A paranoid feeling of dread seeped between Courtney's bones, sliding through her muscles and leaving her whole body rather numb. What if he did succeed? What if, by some apocalypse of a miracle, he aced the test?! If she didn't follow his _terms_, he would no doubt use some sort of blackmail. That and she had given her word.

And it had seemed like such a good idea at the time…

Courtney groaned. "Why do I do these things?" she complained, slumping against the back wall, feeling the cold brush of the air being swept around the room by the ceiling fan against her forehead.

Ali shrugged and tried to give her a confident smile. "I dunno—maybe it's fate," she guessed.

Courtney clenched her jaw so tightly she could almost feel it crack. Seriously? How many times could that despicable word be said in her life?

She made a mental note to burn 'fate' out of the dictionary when she got home…

* * *

_I love repetition. In case you hadn't noticed._

_Sushichica: Okay, I love your reviews. THANK YOU for taking so much time to actually tell me what you liked about the chapter--it really helps with my perspective and with what I should be writing to please my readers. And Duncan's parole officer is just... special. Hah--nitpicking is great; you have a really good eye for things._

_Amethyst Ocean: Your comments seriously make me happy. You don't even know. There's alway something new in yours. Thanks so much!_

_HannahHollywood: Haha no problem! And yes, the song was one of my favorite parts too. I couldn't help myself..._

_Totaldramaislandlover: Aww! Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_Cartoonfire: Dude, you made me laugh so hard. Duncan is indeed like a wild stallion. And yes, Courtney is turning into the new Robin--I hadn't even thought of that! Thanks!_

_Pirate Slayer: Thanks so much! I've tried for originality... I think it's working. Kinda. _

_Forest Scion: Your comment is much appreciated. Gracias!! _

_PMSSS: Can I just say that I love your name? It's fabulous. Thanks!_

_Shimo Ino: You think it's fluffy now? Pffft... just wait. I thank you for your words! :D _

_Bubbles968: You got that right!! _

_THANKS AGAIN! REVIEW! _


	6. Complications

_Okay, so... basically... the ACT is something that should be cast down into the darkest depth of the underworld to rot for all eternity. And to think, I thought I was prepared! -sighs in misery-_

_I guess not. Acutally, I'm ashamed of myself! Seriously, when I got home this afternoon, I thought about drowning myself in the toilet. And then I laughed, so I couldn't really think about it anymore._

_Anyway, -ahem- I'm back with a new update! Whoo! Okay, but first... I'd like to apologize for the last chapter, and in particular, the last section of the last chapter. My writing was **abismal**. I was too lazy to edit it--don't worry! I've already slapped myself for it--and I suffered the consequences. Thank you to those who noticed the slacker-istic mistakes... I'll try not to make it happen again, but hey, I'm human._

_Right. Well, there's a lack of DuncanxCourtney together in this chappie, as I need to make the plot more... plot-ish. Not to worry, there are still heavy, ah, implications, but no actual dialogue between them. But as this chapter is rather essential to the story, I suggest that you try to enjoy it. _

**Chapter Six **

There were three things that crossed Duncan's mind as he lazily flipped past another page in his psychology book:

One—this was boring.

Two—who the hell cared about psychology?

Three—_this was boring._

He let out an exasperated grunt before pushing the ridiculously heavy book aside and standing up from the small desk in his room to stretch his legs. See, this was why he never studied; it wasn't that he couldn't, more that he felt it a complete and utter waste of time. There was nothing wrong with getting Bs in school—especially when those were earned from hardly anything. Actually, he took pride in the fact that he could totally shirk off and manage to get in the higher B ranges.

He was one of those 'smart' kids who didn't apply himself.

That's what his councilor had told him anyways.

Snorting out loud, Duncan pushed his chair back into place. More than likely, the woman had said that in hopes that he would feel the sudden need to change, just because a 'person of experience' had told him he had potential. Or maybe she had done it to convince herself that there was some hope left for him.

Either way, she had been wrong. But most people were, whenever Duncan was concerned.

This was another reason as to why he was so going to win this new bet.

His lips quirked at the possibilities. The more bully-dominant part of his brain created a scene where Courtney was faced with her least favorite food, and coincidentally, her fear: green jell-o. The more… _ahem_, testosterone-inclined portion of his brain formed a different scenario. One in which Courtney was _conveniently_ wearing only her underwear, in fact, bra straps sliding loftily over her shoulders…

Of course, he seriously doubted she would ever agree to that, but hey, a guy could dream. Besides, it would almost be enough to just see the look on her face when he came out with a big, red A plastered to the top of his test paper. Almost.

He couldn't let her get off _that_ easy, could he?

_But…_ He looked over at the pile of papers and books with disdain, _I'd rather chew my fingers off than keep going_. It was Friday night, too. He'd have plenty of time to study later.

Duncan glanced at the watch atop his dresser. It was eight—there was still a night's worth of _fun_ he could have. Hmm… he didn't know where Courtney lived, which was probably a good thing in itself. He could end up with a restraining order if her parents were anything like her.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a near-shrill buzzing went off atop his desk, and his eyes snapped down to the small phone that was now vibrating, the screen flashing the color representing the incoming call.

Curious, Duncan picked it up and eyed the number on the screen with a raised eyebrow, inclined in disbelief. He flipped it open.

"Frankie?"

"Duncan, man! How's life on the leash?"

Duncan paused, still confused as to why his old 'partner-in-crime' was calling. He hadn't seen the guy in at least two years, only hearing from him when he called after all the events on the island were over and done with. Frankie Dane—one of the youngest, and best, exploiters of illegal items Canada had to offer; he was probably better informed than even most black-marketers were of their purchases.

"If by leash you're referring to Loonell, I'd have to say I cut loose a while ago." He waited while his old friend let out a chuckle before continuing. "So… what's with the random call?"

The line crackled once before he heard Frankie's voice mutter the sly response, "You still lookin' for some bike parts?"

Duncan's mind flashed to his Harley, currently residing in his garage, right alongside a battered box of old tools…

He shifted his legs so that more weight pushed on his left. "And if I am…?"

"I know of a certain, ah, _importer_, who happens to have some parts shipping in from Europe. They're selling for cheap—you interested?" He could practically see his friend's eager grin from where he was standing.

Suddenly his night got significantly more interesting.

Duncan snorted. "There's not a place for at least twenty miles around this place that sells anything for motorcycles—why would a fancy _European_ company bother to sell them here?"

"There's this new business-owner, and apparently your town interlinks some of the companies within the range of the web."

A new excitement was quickly filling Duncan's chest. He'd been meaning to get his bike fixed for years now. And even if there was a place worth stealing the parts he needed in this place, there was also an annoying increase in policemen… who all lived around this district neighborhood. It was great.

"What's the address?"

Gripping a pen between his fingers, he carefully scrawled the numbers out onto a blank sheet of lined paper, the crinkled and frayed sides tattering softly against the wood of the desk as he slid it over toward the middle.

His ears tuned in again when Frankie spoke. "There's a catch though—"

"Please. Frank, I've been dealing with guys like this almost as long as you have. I know their ways. This dude's not gonna be any different."

"But—"

"Thanks for the heads up; this'll definitely put a mark in my serious lack of pros for this place."

Clicking the off button, Duncan hastily folded the paper and stuffed it into the front pocket of his pants, quickly grabbing a sweatshirt and pulling it over his head before walking out of his smothering coal-colored room.

He grimaced slightly when he entered his kitchen; both of his parents, clad in uniform, were sitting at the table drinking tall glasses of coffee—he could vaguely smell the rich scent of the freshly ground cinnamon his mom liked to use and the bitter aroma of his dad's own blackened beverage.

Damn. He was sure they'd be gone until tomorrow morning at the least.

His dad looked up from the folder of reports he was scanning over, raising an eyebrow at Duncan's appearance. "Going somewhere?" he asked, glancing in particular at the sweatshirt that donned his torso.

"Just out for some air," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Actually, can I borrow the car? There's this new garage that's just opened up down town and I was hoping to look into some of the parts there." Not a total lie, anyway.

His father gave him a look, folding the paper. "You're paying for the gas—and if there's any laws that happen to be broken, or 'bent', tonight, you'll be paying for a lot more."

Duncan grinned, leaning back into the countertop. "Ever the suspicious one, pa. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't trust me."

"Don't think that just because you haven't performed any serious acts of injustice since moving here you're going to get it easy," Officer Keiths warned, narrowing his eyes, badge gleaming in the kitchen's light—which was rather cheesy, in Duncan's opinion. He even had the whole 'bad cop' voice thing down.

"Who was that girl you were talking to after school?" his mother cut in randomly as Duncan prepared a smart-aleck response.

The green-haired teen felt himself blink. "Huh?"

Oh yeah. He had done in Loonell's tires the other day, forcing his mom to be the one to _escort_ him home from school. She must have seen the fight-slash-bet he had with Courtney.

"You know," the woman continued, moving her short black hair out of her eyes, "the cute one without any noticeable piercings, tattoos, _or _inappropriate hair-dyes." She stared pointedly at Duncan's mohawk.

He snorted. "Just a… friend," he said slyly, making his mother raise an eyebrow.

"We aren't going to be getting any harassment files, are we?"

"If you do, let it be justified by the fact that, secretly, she wanted to be harassed."

"Duncan…" growled his father wearily, rubbing his forehead.

He chuckled nonchalantly and pushed forward off the counter, holding a hand up. "Oh relax. I haven't done anything to her." _Yet._ "We have a few classes together and she was mad at me for messing up an assignment we had to do." It wasn't unlikely.

His mom brought two fingers up to her chin in wonder. "She seems familiar…"

Okay, this conversation really needed to end. He had never been one to _talk_ with his parents; they were practically his enemies. In a very literal sense, too.

"She has one of those faces," he muttered. "Can I go now?" He caught the keys single-handedly when his dad threw them, mumbling something about how he was thankful they decided to not have anymore kids. Duncan smirked at this. While his older brothers had never been quite as… inauspicious as he was, they hadn't been a walk in the park either.

"Thanks," he said cheerfully before walking out the back door, managing to hear his father say "Maybe one of us should go with him…" as he strode across the lawn and toward the garage.

He whistled out a light tune. The Manipulation of Parents was easy… you just had to have practice. And he had years of it.

* * *

_Heat…_

She could feel her stiff fingers moving against the skin of her face, as if grappling for something.

_Desire…_

Her heart thudded rapidly against her chest in an almost rhythmic beat; the cadence was rather disconcerting, and she couldn't seem to get it to slow down.

_Need…_

There was a hot swelling that burned in the pit of her stomach, sending bursts of its seemingly endless flame to the furthest contours of her body, scorching her organs until the possibility of it quelling became a necessity.

Courtney woke with a jolt, pushing away from her desk so hard that she, and her chair, fell unceremoniously to the ground with a hard thud. The small rolling-wheels of the seat spun loosely in the air as she lay, back against the carpet, in a cold sweat.

She cautiously slid a hand under the top of her shirt, pressing it against the lower portion of her collarbone, fingers sticking slightly to the perspiration that layered her skin, causing it to give an odd glow in the dim lighting of her room. Slowly but surely, she felt her pulse begin to fall back from its once electrified-speed. Now it thumped in a dull fashion, in that way it did after you ran a mile as fast as you could and then collapsed, allowing your body to become lethargic and lead-like.

_Oh gosh… oh my freaking…_ Not even her thoughts could continue. A million things were springing through her head—she couldn't zero in on a single one.

This was impossible. All she had been doing was studying; she had wanted to get her homework out of the way so that the rest of her weekend would be free. The last thing she remembered was looking down at a passage they had to read in her English class, attempting to analyze it and getting caught on one word—for some reason her tired mind hadn't been able to see past it.

After rereading it for about the thousandth time, she recalled her head lowering against the book, and then…

Courtney groaned and sat up, pushing her chair back into its proper position. She glanced at the digital clock on the headboard of her bed, the numbers flashing '8:30' in a thick, red glow.

Red…

_Lust…_

And cue the horrible little voice that never seemed to give her a moment's peace. _Well,_ she thought grumpily, _they can't all be Jiminy Crickets…_

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to ignore the images that kept permeating her mind's eye, despite the difficulties she was going through to keep them closed off. Holy _hell_.

It had been a dream. That was it. Just a dream. _Breathe…_

The cruel voice seemed to laugh. _Yeah. Just an incredibly ecstasy-filled **dirty **dream._

"Shuttup!" she yelled aloud, immediately clamping her mouth shut. It was one thing to talk to yourself—it was another thing entirely to argue with yourself.

But her more perverse-welcoming doppelganger was correct: it had been an extremely graphic dream. Like… rated on the 'x' scale. Times ten.

Okay, so maybe not _that_ bad, but still! It wasn't like she was used to this kind of thing happening! Having obscenely vulgar dreams was more for those teens that went through sexual relapse; the ones who convinced themselves that they had a severe lack of sensual theme in their lives, when really all they were lacking was control over a primitive desperation.

And, in all honesty, the dream itself wouldn't have been so bad… had it not been for one particular component.

Duncan.

Shocker.

Courtney brushed her sweaty bangs back from her forehead, sighing, and walked to the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. She turned on the light, flinching as it blinded her momentarily and quickly pressed back the knob on the sink, filling the small room with the soothing sound of running water.

She slowly splashed her face, noting that her breathing was still more erratic than normal. Oh… this was _so_ not good.

_See?_ sneered her evil-seeking subconscious. _This is what happens when all that pent-up denial demands to be released. Dreams are the least of your worries…_

Point to the narcissistic-no-name.

But she wasn't quite sure it was denial—he had been getting under her skin more frequently as of late, and with the recent bet on her mind, she had had trouble even thinking of other things due to the stress.

Cringing as another shot of images flashed through her head, Courtney rubbed her eyes with her pointer finger and thumb, trying to pressure them out. The pictures that kept showing were making her stomach feel all quiver-y again, and she was sure that the nausea wasn't far away…

The voice cackled. _That's not nausea—try hormones. You're totally turned on._

Well… _ew_. That was completely unacceptable. Why wouldn't these awful thoughts go away? She distantly compared herself to a target, and her inner-desire as a big gun… thing. In other words, she was being shot down.

But it wasn't as though she really enjoyed the dream, right? It was disgusting—all the panting and moaning and feeling…

_Besides, he probably doesn't even have a tongue ring._

It took another three point seven seconds for Courtney to realize what she had thought and began to hyperventilate, face color changing to an extreme red.

"I'm going crazy," she muttered, wide-eyed as she stared at her flushed complexion in the mirror, attempting to mull over the laughter of the nasty little voice at what she had been thinking.

Suddenly, the mirror showed her mother entering the bathroom with red eyes, pale and shaking. Courtney turned around slowly, breaking from her heated thoughts and furrowing her brow. "Mom?"

Her mother licked her lips, wiping at the mascara smudged under her eyes before giving a watery smile. "Courtney, dear… Collette's home."

It was like being punched in the gut—the moment her sister entered the small bathroom. Her sister, whom she hadn't seen in six months; her sister, who was left by her fiancé and who proceeded to leave on her own without a word soon after; her sister, who was _extremely_ pregnant, was now standing in the doorway.

Courtney couldn't voice any words; it was like a box was stuffed down her throat. She remained silent even when her sister let out a loud sob and pulled her into a hug, crushing Courtney against a very large belly.

She vaguely wondered if a pattern was being formed in her life… one of people just deciding to show up.

* * *

Locking the car, Duncan shut the door and pushed the keys into his back pocket, hands moving to pull his hood over his head. It hadn't taken long to find the right place—it looked the part of an illegal sell-out, anyway.

A dark alleyway, dim lighting that never failed to flicker eerily, and a couple thuggish goons leaning against the lamp posts, eyes shifting back and forth as people hurried along their way, intimidated by the leering gazes.

His own eyes lidded in a bored stare, Duncan made his way past the two obscenely large men 'guarding' the opening into the alley. He leveled their stares with his own, successfully managing to convince them to let him through after a silent battle. He followed the cracked street path to a door that was only slightly propped, allowing a yellow-ish light to pour out of the narrow slits.

The door led to yet another path—this time a hallway that linked to some sort of warehouse. Yup. Definitely something illegal going on here; he could already smell the fumes of the drugs.

In the middle of the huge room was a single desk, one that a burly woman was sitting at, leisurely scrawling across papers with a jagged pen. Off to the sides were others, smoking, sitting… even passed out. (Duncan couldn't tell if they were guys or girls—they all looked the same. Shady, emo, and homicidal.)

He made a coughing sound, kind of like the really obnoxious "ahem" grunts that teachers or librarians tended to make, except not obnoxious. His was more on the 'you can pay attention to me now' scale.

The woman looked up, and Duncan had to fight not to snort. She reminded him a little of whats-her-face—the muscle-y chick back on the island. Ava? No… Eva. She even had a big 'beauty mark' on her chin.

Her eyes narrowed. "You're a man."

Duncan blanched. His eyebrow quirked and he took a few steps forward. "How… perceptive of you?" he finished uncertainly, skeptical. He could practically hear his subconscious yelling at him to lay off the smart-ass comments.

"Get out!" snarled the woman, eyes sparking in fury. She gestured to the people against the walls, pointing at him. All of them shifted, albeit the ones passed out on the ground, and began to make their way towards him.

Duncan felt his jaw go slack and immediately held up his hands. "Whoa! Hold on—what's your _deal_, woman? I just came to get some bike parts." He was seriously confused. Damn… maybe Frankie had given him the wrong address.

"I don't sell to men," sniffed the woman, making another gesture with her arm, halting her croons. Some of them seemed to sigh in disappointment, trudging back over to their spot on the wall. She eyed Duncan suspiciously. "I only just got here too. How did you find out about me?"

He inwardly groaned. Leave it to Frankie to find a feminist so avid that she hated men. That or she was butch.

"Frank Lemore," he replied, tone irritated.

He watched, now in interest, as the woman's eyes widened. "Frank?" she asked, voice more of a whisper.

"Yeah," said Duncan gruffly. "You know him?" He was careful about his wording now.

Apparently not careful enough.

_"That bastard cheated on me!"_ She was now shrieking. "He actually dared to send a client?! You," she seethed at Duncan, who was a little busy wondering why on earth Frankie would ever even _consider_ dating such a woman to really notice the irate tone of her voice, "leave. Now!"

Duncan sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Look, I came to buy parts—"

"And I told you I'm not selling!"

He felt his eyelid twitch. Quickly, he pulled out a check and a pen from one of his many pockets, scribbling down Loonell's name on the signature line—he had perfected the art of forging many years previous to this—and held it up so the woman could see.

"Listen, doll, I'll give you whatever you want—I just need to see a list of all the items you've got coming in or already have."

"You obviously don't understand what a _refusal_ is. It doesn't matter if you have all the money in the world—I could care less about gender-equality right now."

She snapped her fingers and again the near-lifeless 'dummies' on the wall sprung into action, walking towards Duncan, who was now determined to do whatever it took to salvage his dignity and _not_ be thrown out onto the street.

"What if I can get a chick to come in a buy them from you instead?" he called out, stepping to the side as one drunken troll practically tripped over himself trying to grab Duncan's arm.

Her eyebrow twitched.

"Look," he reasoned, growling as he shoved yet another stupor-driven idiot to the side, "if I can get a girl to come buy from you, you'll still get your money, and you won't have to dump your revenge-issues into the trash by selling to me… technically."

The woman looked at him a moment and sighed, rubbing her temples. She barked something that sound like it was in French at all the goons still trying to one-up him, which surprised Duncan; she didn't even have an accent. They stopped, though.

"You're not going to leave me alone until I consent, are you?" she grumbled, voice rasping in annoyance.

"I just want to fix up my bike."

They stared at each other another few seconds before she sighed again and grabbed a paper off to the side, stamping it and rapidly writing something down. "Here," she handed him the form when he walked up to the desk.

"We're getting the new shipments in five days from now; it's likely that the cops will try to show up—apparently somebody's leaked the info about this place. I want to meet this… girl at that time." She crossed her arms, and he could see muscles bulging under her baggy jacket. "Are you really going to risk a girl's record just to buy some parts?"

"Hey," Duncan warned, his eyes scanned down the form until he found the items he was looking for and underlined them with his pen, "I've been looking everywhere for these—this is my only chance in a town like this." He looked back up at the woman and quirked his lips. "Besides, _she _won't mind." Actually, she wouldn't really have a choice…

Her lip curled. "Men like you disgust me… but you found a loophole." She grumbled something, probably in French, under her breath.

"It's what I do," he said, not bothering to keep the arrogance out of his tone.

She held out her hand, looking rather ticked. "Marie Tonns. It's been a _pleasure_ meeting you."

Duncan offered his own sarcastic grin, taking her hand. "You're a real peach, yourself." He saluted her lazily and with only two fingers. "See you in a few days."

He smirked when she swore and went back to 'paper-pushing' at her desk. Cracking his knuckles, he walked down the hallway and out the doors, this time much more casual when passing the two freaks still suck in position against the lamp posts.

Now then… he had some studying to do.

* * *

_Oh jeez. So, the next chapter might be a little late. (as in, I haven't finished writing the next chapter after that, and I usually like to be one update ahead at all times) BUT! Look forward to some definite hilarity between our two favorite love-hate stimulators! They'll be in... er... close contact the next few chapters. _

_And yeah, lots of new characters. There won't be any real focus on them, but they're pretty important... so don't forget about them!_

_Gabbiez: Thank you m'dear! Your words never fail to give me absurd confidence in my doings. Always a pleasure to be in contact with you and your analytical analyzing. Haha love it!_

_Jacobella: Yay! I was hoping someone would mention the chinese torture. It was a random burst of inspiration--but I liked how it turned out. And yes, fate is a lovely thing, ain't it? No mention of it in this chapter though... blast. Thanks so much!_

_Freakashot: Hahaha! Thanks so much!_

_CourtneyxDuncan: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. I love reviewers like you! And yeah, it's one of my pet peeves--I have to keep the characters in character. Thanks for noticing! _

_Macatly: YOU ROCK TOO! :D_

_Amethyst Ocean: ...You know what? I think I enjoy your reviews too much. I've never even met you, and you're probably one of the most amicable people I've ever sort of been in 'contact' with. This is a good thing. I cannot thank you enough for your encouraging words. Is chewing on candy thoughtfully And you always do something interesting. Colon will indeed be a big thickener of the plot--glad you like him. He's... weird. Thanks again!_

_Forest Scion: I know what you mean--I'm always weary of other characters, but this one's kinda important. And since Duncan and Courtney are the only characters from the show I'm writing about, I feel the need to balance it out. No worries though, they'll forever remain the center of what's going on; these other people are just there to fuel the story on. Thanks for the edit-tip too! I totally missed that! _

_Cartoonfire: Haha! Courtney totally does abuse him! However, he brings it all on himself. I love how happy you are--your reviews alway make me optimistic. And I like Ali too--she lightens up the mood. Thaaaanks! :)_

_SushiChica: ...I love drowing in tidal waves of words. Don't EVEN worry about it. But seriously, I love how meticulous you are to detail. Your hints were very helpful (I actually forgot to italicize a word, which would have made that 'look' sentence more articulate) and your nitpicks are always useful to me. Gosh... I can't even begin to describe my gratitude. And I'm glad you like Colon and Ali! You'll definitely be seeing more of them. And YESSS! Please write a story! Your last two one-shots were BRILLIANT! Thanks again and again!_

_Temari's Angel: Aww! Thank you! I'm glad you found it funny!_

_DubbleV: -snort- I think she would beg to differ. However, I am more inclined to believe who you think is gonna win. ;) Thanks for the review!_

_totaldramislandlover: AH! Thank you! You are fabulous!_

_HannahHollywood: I know! I love Courtney's 'win' moments too. And THANK YOU! You noticed my attempt at balancing the story! I find it too difficult to focus on just two people the whole time. I'd run out of ideas, you know? Thank you!!_

_APDubb: Your review made me laugh out loud! I love comments like that. I am hereby quoting you. Thanks so much!_

_UnderxGravity: Gracias! I love being able to bewilder people. muahaha Who will win? Well, this chapter probably cleared a few things up..._

_wingedfighter: I updated! Whoo! Thanks for your comment! _

Next chapter--The day of the bet approaches. Chaos ensues.


	7. And They All Fall Down

_Oh my FREAKING gosh! Over 100 reviews! Whoo! You guys don't even know how much your words mean to me--thank you all so much! Which is why this chapter is particularly long._

_-coughs- And about the late update... yeah, so basically this week sucked in school, as in, I haven't had so much homework this whole year, and it's still rolling in. Probably it's because it's the end of the quarter, but still! You'd think they would have some compassion on us students! We do have lives._

_And kudos to Forest Scion to being the only one that took heed of my joke. Yeah, I spelled abysmal wrong as a mockery to myself because my writing had been so full of typos. I even bolded it out... so I figure either I'm really bad at making jokes and you all thought I was spelling-inept and felt too bad to say anything, or you just didn't notice. Haha._

**Chapter Seven**

She couldn't handle it.

It felt like there was a metal clamp hooked around her stomach—she was going to be sick if this kept up…

It was worse than the butterflies sweeping through her insides that she felt when she was usually nervous. This tension she was feeling now was kind of similar to how a small fishing boat isolated in the endless bounds of ocean, being pounded upon by wave after wave, winds racing and thunder pounding as a tempest raged overhead would probably suffer. It was inescapable.

Courtney swallowed, her dry throat cracking in discomfort when she tried again, head hidden in her arms as she leaned forward against one of the many lunch tables lining the outside verandas. Her bag hung limply off her shoulder, swaying slightly.

She could hear the other students around her, but their voices and conversations seemed far off, like they might be in a dream.

Whoops. There went that nauseous _whoosh_ in her stomach again.

It was all that dream's fault. She wouldn't be able to even look at him—how could she, when her latest memories of him included ecstasy-filled… _actions_? She would never be able to think about tongue rings in the same way again.

Not to mention the fact that her sister was back in town. This provided yet another realm of difficulties. So far, they hadn't really had a chance to talk; their parents had demanded most of Collette's time, their father even flying back from a law convention in New York City to see her. She couldn't blame them though… what else were they supposed to do when all contact from their eldest daughter had been naught but three-sentenced letters? And for six months, no less.

Courtney moved her right hand to rub slowly at the bridge between her nose and forehead. It really sucked… how life would present someone with the delusion that all was well in the world, and then how it would crush those naïve hopes within a moment's time. It was funny, too, how all the bad things seemed to come at once: a combined effort to fully smother all good.

Alright, so it wasn't really funny. _Maybe_ in an extremely cynical way…

She clutched at the fabric of her sleeves in a desperate attempt to try to block all thoughts to her head. Needless to say, it didn't work.

Huffing, Courtney resisted the urge to slap herself. For Pete's sake! She was letting herself get _way_ too affected by all of this. She was a CIT! _And_ she had survived a psychotic reality show. This was unacceptable.

It had only been a dream. It was only her sister. It was _only_ Duncan.

She could totally handle it.

"Morning, princess!" sang out an obnoxiously chipper _and_ conceited voice. Courtney felt herself forcefully pulled upward and jerked into a chest as an arm snaked around her waist.

Oh… oh crap. She totally couldn't handle it. Again.

Eyes wide, Courtney made her head tilt away from Duncan's as he somehow managed to get closer still. She could already feel the blood pooling into her cheeks as his proximity brought up unwanted images and thoughts; her heart pulsed at a rate that created a deafening pounding between her ears.

She chanted a fervent _'don't look'_ in her head, hoping to the high heavens that he would, for once, get bored of taunting her and go away.

_How's that working for ya?_ chuckled her conscience, whom Courtney had now dubbed as inherently evil, commenting on her failure at ignoring Duncan's presence. She made sure to add that to the "life sucks" list—she was sure most people didn't have voices mocking them in their heads when they _weren't_ schizophrenic.

At least, she didn't _think_ she was…

"Yo, Miss Counselor-in-Training? You there?"

Courtney was snapped out of her frantic thoughts, literally, when Duncan snapped his fingers in front of her face. Great. How long had she zoned out for? She turned to look at him, which was sort of a mistake.

The moment her eyes wandered along the smirk stretched across his lips, her blood warmed, and she could feel the flow increase as odd tingles spread to very inappropriate places. This couldn't be happening—she was _not_ perverted!

_You're a teenager_, snorted the cruel voice, _get used to it._

"Always knew I could make you speechless," added Duncan smugly, looking more than amused at her most likely strange expression.

"Shuttup," grumbled Courtney acidly, finally managing to gather herself enough to actually respond. She quickly averted her eyes, finding that they seemed much more interested in staring at him than they should have been.

"What's the matter, _darling_?" Ugh… why was he so happy? She never could have pegged him as a morning person. And seriously, did he not know her name? The petnames were grating on her last nerve...

"What makes you think there's anything wrong?" she shot back loftily, the corners of her lips turning down and increasing her scowl.

He licked his lips eagerly, the simple action causing Courtney to stiffen. _Ew, ew, ew! Don't think about those things! Stop—right now!_ she commanded herself, feeling disgusted at her lack of self-control.

"Well, considering that I'm going to win the bet Friday, and that you don't seem to mind our current… position, you could have a lot of things wrong with you."

Courtney blinked, suddenly coming to the realization that she was, in fact, still allowing him to have his arm around her waist—she was actually starting to _lean_ into him—and that she had forgotten about the bet.

She felt her shoulders lower. How could she have forgotten?! "You…" she started weakly, anger overwhelmed by her surprise at _not_ remembering something, "I'm way too tired to deal with you." She put her fingers to his chest and pushed him away, jaw clenching.

_I forgot?!_

Armageddon had come. An apocalypse was occurring. Something was not right in the world.

_World…_The word clicked in her subconscious, registering yet another thing she failed to remember. Courtney's eyes widened again. She hadn't done her government homework. Oh _snicklefritts._

Before her mind could catch up to her actions, she had grabbed the front of Duncan's shirt and pulled him to her level in a panic-filled dread. "_I didn't do my homework!_" she hissed, fairly certain that her heart was going to enter cardiac arrest any second now.

So frantic were her thoughts that Courtney barely noticed Duncan's odd expression at her exclamation fade into a mischievous one. "Good for you," he grinned, hand moving behind her head before she could back away. "It's about time you loosened up."

His fingers wrapped themselves in her hair and she felt her head pushed forward until her forehead was up against his. And by now her mind was in such a buzz, a combined effect of his rather heated stare and her horror at not completing an assignment—she could even see speckles of black dancing before her vision.

Quickly thinking up a plan before 'the voice' had license to fill her head with more…things, Courtney reached up and grabbed Duncan's ear, surprising him so that his own hand jerked back, tugging her hair unintentionally.

"Ow!" Courtney yelped, wincing. "Let go, moron!"

Duncan cringed, somehow managing to look both entertained and in pain. "You're the one yanking my ear, sweetheart—_you_ let go!"

"You—_ouch_—first!" she shouted, not relenting in her grip. She didn't care if she sounded childish; he was _pulling _her hair!

"Your hair's tangled, and my fingers are stuck," explained Duncan, rolling his eyes at Courtney's fury. "Cool down and hold on."

Taking a few deep breathes, she was finally able to gather some patience as he _gently_ wound his fingers out of her hair…taking a good many pieces with him. She rubbed the back of her head, glaring at him. Ouch.

"Thank you, for that," she said sarcastically, trying desperately to quell the growing panic in her stomach once more, along with the flutters she was feeling as he stared at her. She ignored the flutters—her school record was at stake here.

"You liked it," Duncan said smoothly, brushing off his shirt for effect.

Courtney scoffed.

"Can we please get back to the matter at hand?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Which would be…?"

She mentally slapped a hand to her face. "My homework! My incomplete, totally not finished, _inchoate_ homework!"

"Oh yeah," he snorted, folding his arms nonchalantly. "Big deal."

"You don't understand—" seethed Courtney, contemplating on whether or not it was okay to want to go jump off a cliff "—I always finish my homework. This is like… sacrilege."

She glared when he gave her a look that more or less said, 'You are way too uptight'. Psh. What did he know?

"Well, the way I see it, you have three options." He held up his hands, counting off his fingers. "You can go to class and get an incomplete—" Courtney let out a hiss at this, making Duncan's lips quirk "—you can go and get the answers from somebody else—"

This time she felt a scandalized gasp leave her lips. "But that's cheating!" she protested fervently.

He flashed her an amused smile. "Wanna let me finish?" he asked mockingly. She scowled, but said nothing more.

Checking off his third and final finger, he said, "Or you could cut class."

_Blasphemy!_ "Absolutely not." Courtney could feel the indignant shudder quake through her entirety. Ali had convinced her to skip once… needless to say, getting caught by Ali's parents—one of whom was an ex-teacher—at the mall was so not worth it. Who would have thought that an Arts instructor could be so sadistic?

"Scared of getting caught?" Duncan teased.

_Been there, done that,_ she thought bitterly. Not like she was going to let him know, of course.

"Yep," she deadpanned blandly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go face my doom."

"You might want to hurry, then."

Courtney rolled her eyes at the humor enclosed in his voice. "Why?"

"Because class started six minutes ago."

She was sure something had punctured her stomach. Why else would she feel like wheezing for air? Huh… it was kind of a weird feeling. It didn't really hurt, but at the same time her lungs were being crushed in a panicked flow of vented air—although, that didn't quite match the sheer disbelief she was experiencing at the moment.

_I'm possessed._ That was it. There was no way she'd be acting like this had Duncan simply dropped out of existence and her sister never went 'missing'. And even then, she was much too collected to be so frazzled.

She wondered if it was too late to transfer to a private school.

* * *

Colon never understood why people hated Mondays. Sure, they signaled the start of the week; the beginning of classes; the end to the weekend… but they also brought in an accumulation of _new_.

He allowed a grin to spread across his mouth, readjusting his glasses as he paused the camera, the image halting on a figure of a snickering teenage boy—who, in actuality, was still laughing only twenty feet away. He could envision the girl, who was currently walking away in a cold fury, muttering vile profanities under her breathe; unfortunately, she was too far away for his camera to capture.

He could definitely see why Chris Maclean enjoyed hosting his more unique reality show so much.

These two were better than a soap opera.

He could only imagine what the others were like off screen.

Colon scratched under his chin. Oh… the possibilities. He held up his camera, fingering the lens cap gently. He wouldn't really consider his dealings as stalking—okay, so he _could_ get sued for invasion of privacy—but rather a documenting process. And personally, he had known 'the girl', Courtney, for most of high school. Well, technically, they didn't really _know_ each other so much as they had a sort of acknowledgement of the other's presence.

That probably wouldn't account for anything if the issue ever arose, but hey, this was art. There wasn't really any excuse for it.

Now, all he had to do was find someone to appreciate it…

* * *

His eyes lazily followed the motions her ponytail was making as she tilted her head from side to side. She rolled her shoulders once and hunched over again, the tied portion of her hair falling over toward the front and exposing a lovely portion of tanned skin stretched across a long neck.

Duncan shifted his gaze toward the clock, willing it to move faster. He couldn't help it—lunch hour was only five minutes away. They had written some sort of history paper during this period, and with his already turned in, he was extremely bored. Not that he hadn't been bored whilst writing the paper; it was just something to do.

And Courtney was distracting him. She sat over to the left two seats, and was obviously attempting to make her own paper as pristinely perfect as she could (most likely in order to make up for not completing one of the week's assignments), continuing to write. She had this tendency to bite her lower lip as she worked, occasionally swiping her tongue across it as well.

He sighed, eyes roaming the classroom. It wasn't his fault he liked her quirks—they were all pesky enough to be cute. It didn't help either that throughout the whole of the week she had been acting different.

Chuckling inwardly as he recalled her… performance Monday morning, Duncan casually leaned back in his seat. Since then, it seemed like every little thing he did would set her off into a torrent of complaints and lectures: it was either that or she would try to avoid him.

She hadn't really succeeded in the latter—he saw to that.

Unfortunately, she did seem rather determined today to not speak to him. Probably she was nervous. Today was the day he would win the bet, after all.

Duncan smirked when the bell rang. Only a few more hours until the test. He watched as Courtney walked up to the front and placed her newly stapled essay onto the teacher's desk.

_Baiting time…_he thought eagerly.

It didn't take long to catch up to her more speed-driven strut after she left the classroom, and he noted how she pointedly looked away from him when he began to walk alongside her. She had been doing that more frequently too—that and blushing. Not that he minded. It was all the more fun for him.

"So, princess," he began slyly, raising his eyebrows at her in a knowing way, "you seem a little tense today. Worried?"

Her expression sharpened into a glare. "Me? Worried?" She huffed. "Don't be absurd."

"I'm only stating the obvious," Duncan continued, not bothering to keep the smugness out of his voice. He casually slung an arm around her shoulders, causing her to slump forward under the added pressure.

"Please refrain from touching any part of my epidermis," Courtney said acidly, ducking forward to remove his arm.

Duncan snorted, managing to keep his arm around his shoulders as he pulled her against his side. "You need to learn how to chill."

"And _you_ need to learn how to respect the phrase 'personal bubble'."

Right. You know how there's usually a barrier in an individual's head that filters out thoughts that aren't meant to be said aloud, as they could very likely end up screwing over the person who wasn't careful about the filtration process? Yeah. Well, Duncan's 'wall' didn't seem to be keeping things contained as of late—Courtney's reactions to everything he said was proof enough. This moment was, of course, no exception.

He snickered as she forcefully shoved him away this time. "Did your 'time' this month come early, or what? You've seemed extra _hormonal _this week."

It didn't take long for the more logical part of his brain—yes; he did have some logic—to start beeping the little 'cease and desist!' alarms in his head. In an instant, he was recalling a piece of advice his oldest brother had given him when he turned thirteen…

_"There are three things you must be severely wary of in the dealing of the opposite sex, little bro. One—"_

He cringed when Courtney's jaw lowered into a half-indignant, half-disbelieving gape.

_"—don't annoy them when they're already ticked. Two—"_

He quickly started to think of things he could say to convert the angry flush that had spread across her cheeks into a frazzled one; one where he might be able to get the advantage. He wasn't having much luck, to say the least.

_"—if you do, for some reason, manage to annoy them when they're already ticked, make sure to avoid unwanted physical contact. And three—"_

He sighed, almost in exasperation, as he suddenly was aware of his soon-to-be consequences. Courtney had already built up enough air in her lungs to blow over a house.

_"—if you're unlucky enough to piss them off more by said unwanted contact, never accuse them of anything pertaining to their monthly 'visitor'. You will pay."_

Well, he'd never been good with following directions.

"You are the most uncalled-for, ill-conceived, malapropos, detestable, repugnant _beast_ I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!" she shrieked, throwing her hands up in turmoil.

Duncan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but he was careful to make sure he didn't do anything to increase her rage. To him, it was hot… though, he was pretty sure if he mentioned his opinion, the banality of 'if looks could kill' would become more than just a commonplace.

That or his 'power-point' would become a permanent handicap.

"—and I _swear_ if you talk to me at all again today, I will not be held responsible for my actions!"

Okay, did she really have to make it this easy? He literally had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from saying something he probably would have regretted. Sexual innuendos were not to be taken so lightly when he made them, anyway.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets as she finished her little rant, concluding with dubbing him a "deplorable ignoramus" before strutting away down the hall.

As Duncan strained to remember what his brother had told him after he'd asked why girls got so mad after accusations were made of them being on 'that' time, he couldn't help but grin.

_"Well, to be quite frank, it's because you're probably right."_

* * *

She hated it when he was right.

Courtney fumed, still bitter about what had happened earlier in the afternoon. Of course he was right. He was Duncan. His whole _grandeur_ was built with atoms designed to irritate the crap out of her.

And it wasn't her fault that she was on her period—she didn't really have a choice. It was just suck-ish that she had to deal with a raging grumpiness along with all the other problems this particular week had offered her.

She was in dire need of some chocolate…

Exhaling deeply, Courtney stepped out of her car and locked it, ears ringing slightly after the high-pitched beeping went off to signify the secured state.

Now was the moment of reckoning. She couldn't wait until Monday—she had to see those test scores.

The whole sixth-hour thing hadn't been a pleasant experience. Duncan had been his over-confident self while she had practically been having a fit from nervous twitches. He even dared to _wink_ at her when he'd finished. Oh, how she hated his smugness; there was never an end to it.

And, technically, he hadn't spoken to her the rest of the day. It was just infuriating how his actions were more unbearable than his words.

_His 'actions' were much appreciated on the island…_ drawled the cruel voice slyly. _What makes now any different?_

…the voice was _so _going down when she thought of an answer to that.

Shaking her head, Courtney made her way to the front doors of the main building and entered, immediately hearing her footsteps echo down the now student-less halls. Nearing the flight of stairs she would take to get to her destination, her mind drifted back and forth between the dread she was feeling at the possibility of seeing a score that she wouldn't like and the confidence that assured her she would be appeased. She groaned aloud—why did she ever make such a stupid bet?

She could feel her heart beginning to thud in anxiety as she closed in on the door that would have the test grades stapled to the front. As of now, her confidence was still in a steadily declining slope.

It was like a foreboding doom. She watched as her shadow came upon the door and the top of it tilted upwards as it was forced by the lighting overhead to reshape. Her hands shook in anticipation.

_Stop being such a baby!_ she yelled at herself. _It's only a silly bet. Who really cares if he wins?_

Well, her pride, for one…

Sucking in air, Courtney forced her eyes to look up at the crisp sheet of paper. She paused in her scanning at her own name: a 97 percent. Swallowing, she moved her gaze down still until she came upon 'Keiths, Duncan', and trailed over to his own score…

She had to grind her teeth together to prevent a scream.

There, in a thick, bolded font was a lovely-crafted 94.

She swore it was taunting her. That and the patronizing memory of herself saying, _"You will proceed to get a ninety-three or above…"_

Now she new why all those people in movies would exaggeratedly beat their heads against the nearest hard-surfaced object; she was seriously contemplating following their example, at the moment. It seemed like such a good idea, too. Kind of like the rational that cutting one's wrists would make all of the metaphorical pain in life go away. Except without the blood.

Courtney closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose, vaguely smelling the cleaning-toxins the janitor used on the floors. Right. Well, now that her ego had taken a severe hit, she supposed that it would be a great time to leave. Maybe she could convince the germy little neighbor boy to give her his cold. She was overdue for a sick day… or ten.

Deciding to take the long way out in order to try and gather her thoughts before she went home and sulked, Courtney turned in the opposite direction and began walking, her imagination sifting through all the horrors that Duncan was now liable to fixate upon her. She felt a vein throb in her forehead.

_Why didn't I ask for a ninety-five?_ she thought miserably, her arms swaying limply by her sides as she walked.

She decidedly ignored the extremely-hated voice that opted to chanting a horrible mantra of the word _'fate'_ in her head.

In her distracted state, Courtney didn't notice the bright yellow sign placed right before the stairwell that clearly mentioned the "Wet Floors" and nearly lost her balance as her left foot slipped in front of her. Now she knew why the cleaner-smell had been so prominent.

She winced as she stood up, feeling a twinge in her calf muscle from the sudden pressure. "Ouch…"

"Smooth, princess. And here I thought you knew how to read."

Her stomach felt queasy again. Why was she even surprised? It really wasn't _that_ unexpected that he was here. Now. When she was suffering.

Jaw clenched in disdain, Courtney looked up into Duncan's grin. "What are you doing here?" she asked grouchily, making sure to stand in a way that would prevent herself from slipping again.

It was then that she took in, with a large and involuntary gasp, the thick red paint that now laced a good portion of the wall. She realized that the paint was compressed into some sort of lettering, but with all the other details it was hard to discern one part from another. She also realized that it just so 'happened' to be the wall on which hung the portraits of all the past, and late, principals.

Needless to say, the pictures were rather discernable too.

"You _tagged_ the Principal Hall?!" Courtney hissed, incredulous.

Duncan nodded, smiling. "The whole grey-theme was bothering me—I figured that a little color would do all the oldies some good." He snorted. "They needed to _brighten up_, anyway."

Courtney increased her glare. "They're dead—they're not supposed to be 'brightened up'; especially not like that! This is totally disrespectful!"

He rolled his eyes and spun the bottle of paint in his hand. "Still pissy, eh?" Courtney felt the flames of resentment rise up in her insides, licking at her organs. "Besides, what were _you_ doing here?" A slyer edge crept along his tone. "Trying to catch an early glimpse of the test scores?"

Dread immediately overwhelmed the anger. Courtney, without really thinking, grabbed her ID out of her back pocket and flashed it at him. "I left this in my math class and I had to come back to get it," she said dully, surprising herself with how easily the lie came out. "Hanson probably doesn't even have them listed yet."

Her stomach clenched nervously when he fixed his steely gaze on her own and tossed the spray can between his hands. "_Really?_" He scratched under his chin. "I dunno about that…"

_Son of a bi…barracuda!_ She took a deep breath. Had he already seen the scores? Because that would seriously suck.

Then again, her life didn't seem to mind the whole sucking-factor as of late.

Courtney frowned at him, her voice still bland. "I do." This was kind of a stupid thing to say, as it more or less insinuated that she had at least tried to check what the scores were. It was one of those 'I forgot to think before I spoke' answers. Dang it.

His eyes glinted delightedly. "So you _have_ seen them." He took a few casual steps forward. "See anything you didn't like?"

He was smirking now…and she was envisioning punching it off his face. "Oh, shuttup!" she snapped, turning her body slightly so that she could make a quick getaway down the stairs if need be.

It amazed her—how did his arm always find its way around her shoulders? "Aw, come on, princess. You're gonna want to be nice to me, remember? I get to choose your _fate_."

She was positive he had planned that last part out.

"You… just… ugh!" A snarl built in her throat. "Go lay in traffic!"

Then she pushed him. Which ended up being a really, really dumb thing to do.

Unfortunately, she had, once again, disregarded the "Wet Floors" sign, and upon shoving Duncan, lost her own balance as her footing slipped because of the momentum. And _oh yeah_. They were lucky enough to be right next to the stairs. Stairs that led downward.

Courtney remembered when she was much younger, how she had seen a fellow classmate come to school with a broken leg because he had tripped and fallen down his own staircase. She had wondered what it would have been like, but wasn't exactly eager to try.

Well, now she had her answer.

It _hurt_.

After a series of grunts and yelps, she found herself in an extremely uncomfortable position at the bottom of the stairs. Somehow her arms had gotten caught underneath her body, and were now prickling in an almost-numb feeling. She was sure her head must have hit somewhere too… _I hate life._

Muscles straining, she managed to turn her head to look at Duncan, who was lying on his stomach, a dazed look on his face. She coughed, wincing as her head throbbed. "You okay?" she managed to croak out.

He wheezed and rolled onto his back, letting loose a few dry chuckles. "Always wondered what that would be like," he rasped, sounding like he had gotten the wind knocked out of him.

…it was just a coincidence. Courtney scowled when The Voice snickered.

Groaning, she pushed herself onto her knees, feeling the world spin as she attempted to clear her head. Glancing up, she felt her jaw drop. Somehow, Duncan had lost his grip on his paint can… as it was now dripping down the stairs. She could still see the can itself at the top, confused as to how it hadn't fallen down with them.

"Great…" she heard Duncan mumble; "now I need another one… again."

Not understanding what he was talking about, Courtney tried to ignore the terror that was quickly spilling into her mind. They were so _dead_ if they got caught.

_"Who's there?!"_

Oh crap. Her head snapped towards Duncan, his own eyes widened a bit as well. "It's the janitor," she whispered, horrified. He raised an eyebrow, seemingly calmed down by this information.

Courtney shook her head frenziedly. "Think of Chef, except ten times scarier." Duncan gave an exasperated sigh at this and opened his mouth to say something. She cut him off by shoving him in the direction of one of the many storage closets lining the hall. "_Move!_" she hissed. "I will _not_ be suspended because of you!"

Duncan said something about how suspension wasn't a bad thing—not that she was listening—and sighed heavily again when she thrust the door open to push him inside. "Sweetheart," he deadpanned as she sucked in deep, nervous breaths, "don't you think he'll look in here?"

Courtney closed the door, just as she saw the janitor's cart pull up at the top of the stairwell. She could hear his, ahem, _loud_ cursing as though he were standing right next to her. "Not if you be _quiet_ and let me—" She let out an 'oof!' as she stepped in some sort of bucket and, arms flailing, fell into something hard.

This, of course, fermented the domino effect, as whatever she fell into hit a shelf and caused some sort of heavy object to drop and smash into something and then proceed to hit the ground.

Courtney held her breath as she heard, once everything stopped _falling_, the janitor's footsteps near the door. She was certain he'd be able to hear her heart beat. She about had a seizure when the doorknob rattled for a moment.

"Jammed again…" the gruff voice of the janitor—she struggled to think of his name—said, muffled by the door. He was silent for a second more before he began to walk away. "Damn kids."

Courtney brought a hand up to her chest, blood pumping in her ears. That had been _too _close. She felt dizzy…

"Not that I really mind," started Duncan suddenly, which caused Courtney to blanch—his voice was _really_ close—"but next time, can I be on top?"

She was grateful for the lack of lighting in the enclosed space, for she was sure her face had ignited into a bright red. She was near-straddling him. _Oh, snap_. Letting out a strangled sort of gasp, she leapt to her feet and backed against the door, grappling for the handle.

Upon reaching it, she tried to twist it open, frowning when it wouldn't budge, and frowning even more when she noticed it was bent. Her mind slowly put together the smashing sound that had resonated when whatever the heavy object was fell off the shelf, and the janitor's own words _'Jammed again…'_

Trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness as a new panic filled her head, Courtney looked over at where she could hear Duncan brushing himself off.

"Duncan?" she squeaked. She saw his outline pause.

"What?" he laughed once at her odd voicing. "Want to take me up on my offer?"

His one-track mind never ceased to boggle her own. "_The door's stuck!_" she seethed, trying again to twist the knob, harder each time. She even pressed her shoulder up against it and pushed once before turning back towards him.

"…It is?" Even though her eyes were having trouble focusing, Courtney could see his face contort into what she was sure was a devilish grin.

_Well, well, well… _her evil voice crooned, _this is an interesting predicament._

Courtney felt her spine stiffen.

She was so doomed.

* * *

_-Insert evil laugher-_

_And for the record, girls DO get ticked when they're accused of being on their periods. It's happened to me... stupid boys. It's not our fault we have to surf the crimson wave every month. (Brownie point to whoever guesses where the phrase 'surfing the crimson wave' comes from!)_

_CourtneyxDuncan: Don't worry, Courtney's side of the story will clear up soon enough--just wait a couple more chapters! And Marie would totally scare me too! ...If I ever met her. _

_Temari's Angel: Ah, thank you thank you. Yes, Courtney's naughty dream was very fun to write--I'm glad her perspective of it. :)_

_alienphantom: Jail? Haha, no, I don't think so. Actually, Courtney would probably try to off herself before going to jail. Thanks for the reviews!_

_Gabbiez: That was one of my favorite lines too! And... yes. I was hinting at Duncan being the winner. You know, sometimes I think you're psychic. _

_wingedfighter: Haha! Yeah, a bit more than an implication. And here's your update! :D Thanks for your review!_

_totaldramaislandlover: Yes, yes you are. And I love harely bikes too! And congratulations on being right about Duncan winning. As he said, I couldn't let Courtney get off that easy... thanks!!_

_Dubble V: I know right? It's a bit more than a shocker when someone like Courtney has a more than scandelous dream. And I'm pretty sure he think she'll appreciate him risking her life too. :P Thanks for the review!_

_Forest Scion: You caught me, as I said before. Congrats on realizing my poorly-concocted joke was indeed a joke. And dude, I laughed at your review. I love how you related some of your life to a scene in the story. It totally made my day! And yeah, it's probably a good thing you chose to wear black... you would have been an easy target otherwise. But that's only inclined towards the strictly homocidal characters. ;)_

_Cartoonfire: I hate studying. 'Nuff said. And yeah, Courtney does have a 'bad side' to her... though, it is rather likable, eh? Especially when you wanna have a good laugh. You were right in your decision that he would win--and he IS cute, isn't he? Love that mohawk! Thanks!_

_Hannah Hollywood: Yay for balance indeed! Yeah! I was going for the whole initial sequence with the sister's... and since Collette is also a french-originated name, I figured, why not? Thanks so much for you comments! _

_Amethyst Ocean: I. Love. Your. Reviews. I think I nearly cried when you compared me to JK Rowling, as she is one of my idols, and I enjoyed reading how you can see the many different folds I've been putting into the story. And vice versa--I would love to meet you! In case I haven't mentioned it in some reviews I've done for your stories, your own writing rivals many... a fact I am much jealous of. Thank you SO FREAKING MUCH!_

_Macatly: AH! Thanks! I liked that sentence too! -is laughing at Courtney too-_

_xiayou: She'll definitely need all the luck she can get now, eh? haha thanks for your review!!_

_UnderxGravity: Seriously! Seductive reasoning! You are so right. Courtney will have to break at one point or another... thanks!_

_naria-satome: Oh good! Yeah, I like the balance other characters provide. Thank you!_

_SushiChica: -stares at review- Do you realize that I'm always waiting for your review? Yeah, that's how much you contribute to this story. All of the things that you point out to me that I completely miss or forget to fix--I tend to try and do better the next chapter. I truly appreciate all the time you put into your comments! And you commented on the tongue-ring sentece! AHAHA! I loved that. And I've always been in the Duncan "smart-slacker" party too--he couldn't be so devious without some brains, right? And no, I wouldn't suggest worrying about what's going to happen to Courtney's record... just what she's gonna do to Duncan. Teehee. I agree on the whole Twilight sequence-problem thing... it's so terribly cliched and cheesy that it gets to be overdone. Not that it isn't fun to read while on a romantic whim, but yeah. _

_And HOORAH! You're writing a story! This gladdens my heart so! I'm actually thinking of doing a serious AU fic after this one is done with too. Your flattery is seriously going to make my ego explode one day... thank you SO much. There's no other way I can describe my appreciation. _

_Junna: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like the story!_

Next Chapter: Let's see how well Duncan can control himself... shall we?


	8. Stuck

_Okay, so basically, yes--I realize how cliche this idea is, but I couldn't help myself. Despite the overused-ness of it, it's very funny, and I'm sure all of you will get a kick out of it. The more original plot line will return in the next chapter. I promise! _

_Anyway, once again, I fall at all your feet in a deep gratitude. Your reviews motivate and help me so much, I can't express it. And it was funny to see how many of you didn't think Duncan could control himself--hehe, you were partically right. _

_...Just read._

_Oh, and it'll be another two weeks before my next update, btw. I'm going to be out of town this next weekend--YAY for Disneyland!_

**Chapter Eight**

Duncan felt his lazy grin grow as Courtney continued her furious efforts to pound the door down. "Babe, the door's stuck—get over it." He snorted when she punched the wood hard enough to pull back with an 'ow!'

…Judging by the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, she was glaring at him.

"You could help me," she said, shaking the knob for the umpteenth time. "I'm sure that if we used your thick skull as a reckoning force, we could break the door down." He felt his eyes roll up towards the ceiling, but he pushed himself up and walked over to the door, staring at it a moment before shoving all of his weight against it, only succeeding in making his shoulder sore.

The door still didn't budge.

"There, I tried," he drawled, bored. "Happy?"

Courtney pouted, well, he thought she did. His eyes were just beginning to adjust to the dark. "No," she grumbled.

He reached down to fumble with the bottom of her shirt. "I bet I could make you happy," he suggested, removing his hand when she tugged her shirt back.

"_No_."

"You sure? Because I _bet_ you would enjoy it…" He raised his eyebrows when she grunted, finally understanding what he was getting at.

He saw her figure take another step back, folding her arms. "Okay, _fine_. I lost. _You _happy?" She was nearly growling now, which he found hysterical.

"Extremely," he grinned, leaning against the door. "So, would you say I am correct in my estimations of your underestimations of myself?" Oh yeah—he was enjoying this. And while he couldn't fully see her face, he was positive it was priceless.

"Oh!" She made the motion of clenching her fists. "Stop patronizing me—I realize that I was wrong, okay? You aren't as inept as I thought."

"Who's patronizing?" Duncan feigned innocence. "It was a simple question."

Courtney scoffed. "Uh huh." She batted at something in front of her face.

"Anyway," she continued, swatting again, "as long as we're stranded in here, I'm going to make some ground rules."

"Oh?" he laughed. "And those would be…?"

"You are to keep at least three feet away from me at all times—" _Not a chance_. "—and you can't say or do anything suggestive or lecherous." _Tough luck_. "Actually, to add onto that last one, it would be preferable if you just didn't speak at all." _Too late._

She really needed to work on her rule-making.

Sighing, Duncan stepped towards her, grabbing two of her belt loops with his hands to pull her closer. He felt her try to lean away.

"What are you _doing_?" she hissed out, keeping her head down. He smirked, quickly tugging on her hair to get her to look up.

"Breaking your rules," he said casually, fingers hooking into a tighter hold around the loops. She let out an annoyed exhale, shaking her head and attempting to escape his reach.

She pushed against his chest, "Well, don't."

Duncan lowered his head slightly. "You should know me better by now, princess. I live for breaking the rules." His lips quirked when she squirmed further. "Just go with it, darling. You know you want to."

"You have no idea what I want," she said stiffly, now reaching behind her to grab at something. "For goodness sake! What _is_ this…?!" She yanked once, and Duncan was forced to release her when he was momentarily blinded.

She had pulled on a thin chain that turned on a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling of the closet, which was now filled with a yellow-ish glow.

_Well,_ he thought, rubbing at his eyes to get rid of the dancing spots, _at least we can see now._ He looked over at Courtney, who was balling her own fists over her eyes, cringing as she stepped back, and narrowly avoiding stepping into another bucket. He chuckled inwardly at the thought.

He was pulled from said thoughts when she abruptly prodded him in the chest. "What was that?!"

Duncan leered at her. "What was what?"

"That… er, display..." she struggled.

He immediately felt a smirk grown on his lips. "What? Am I making you all hot and bothered?" Of course, when a blush suddenly lit up her face, he was significantly more interested in the implications of his statement.

She glared at him indignantly. "You're disgusting." Sitting down on a metal trash can that was turned upside down, she crossed both her legs and her arms and sneered. "Don't _touch_ me."

He resisted the desire to scoff at her 'warning'. He realized that she was in a foul mood from the knowledge that she was stuck here, in a janitor's closet—where they weren't likely to be found—and afterschool on a Friday. But still; she was stuck here with _him_. Any other girl would be dying to take her place.

Of course, this _was_ Courtney.

Spotting another, and slightly more bent, trashcan jammed in the corner of the small storage room, Duncan brought it over and placed it on its top, pushing it against the wall. He leisurely brought his arms behind his head, intertwining his fingers and leaning back, bending his knee enough to put his foot on the rim of Courtney's own seat.

"You can't really expect me to not violate your personal space while we're stuck in here, _together_, can you?" His amusement grew when she stubbornly turned away from him, silent. "Tch—I wouldn't try the whole silent-treatment thing, sweetheart. I have ways of making you talk."

His eyes flickered to the nervous twitch her fingers had made, and felt his mouth curve into a frown. Either she was itching to slap him, or she was still playing off of whatever weird personality had practically controlled her the whole week. He was hoping for the first option…

"Alright," he breathed, almost in exasperation, "what's up? You've been acting different all week—and it can't all come from your womanly woes." He immediately held up a hand when she spun her head to glare daggers at him. "I'm not implying anything—just rationalizing," he said quickly in his defense.

She continued to ignore him, but ceased in her glare.

"I'm not disinclined to using some of those methods of getting it outta you, princess," he cautioned her, voice hardening.

Courtney clicked her tongue. "It's just been a long week," she muttered. "Am I not allowed to have a few bad days?" Duncan gave her a skeptical look and motioned with his hand to get her to continue.

He had to bite down on the inside of his lip to keep from laughing when it looked like she wanted to stick her tongue out at him. "My sister came back after being gone a really long time, okay? And my parents have been stressing me out. That's it."

Duncan snorted in disbelief. "That's not it. But whatever," he shrugged, "I won."

"We've already established this," Courtney said, frustrated. He watched as her eyebrows and nose did that little scrunching thing he liked so much, his stomach shifting uncomfortably when she slumped forward enough to expose a bit of cleavage.

He allowed a smirk to, once more, take its place on his face at her acknowledgement of the bet. "Not that. I told you the silent treatment wouldn't work." He winked at her, snickering lightly as her skin flushed over and she rubbed her forehead.

"You're so immature," she groaned, obviously annoyed with the situation.

He put on a mock-insulted expression. "I resent that," he argued, bringing his arms down to his lap. "I'm _mature_ in many ways—want me to show you?"

"How is it," she began in incredulity, "that you manage to convert everything I say into something perverted?"

"Talent," he boasted cockily. "Although, it _does _help that everything you say gives me license to flirt." He smiled smugly. "But then, it's almost like you try to."

She looked offended. "I would never flirt with you! You're worse than all those immoral drunkards that come hang around the school gates to try and seduce any girl they make eye contact with."

"Maybe," Duncan smirked, "but you'd never kiss any of _them_, would ya?" He could practically feel his ego inflate at that jab, grinning as another blush swept across her face when she muttered something incoherent.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

Her eyes narrowed at his teasing. "Go die," she spat vehemently.

Duncan's brow furrowed. "You forming a habit of telling me to go off myself?" He removed his foot from the brim of Courtney's trashcan, stretching it out in front of him. "Because, if you are, can I suggest that you tell me to do _other_ things, instead?"

She appeared to twitch as the suggestively stained question was asked. In all honesty, she couldn't blame him—she set herself up for all of his quirks.

_Because she likes them,_ he thought, his self-confidence nearly brewing over the top. It was apparent; transparently so, even. She could try to keep denying things, though, any reason she came up with to keep denying anything way completely beyond him. He had thought things couldn't get better while they were on the island… but now it was like he was starting from scratch.

This conclusion boggled his mind.

And yet, he could _see_ that there was something besides what she was pretending. He saw it in her eyes when they first reunited in the park; he saw it in her body language whenever he got close to her; he saw it in her actions regarding his more worrisome choices.

It only made him all the more determined to find out why she was still pretending. If she thought that she could drive him away, the girl had another thing coming.

"…Are you even listening to me?"

Duncan was wrenched from his ponderings at Courtney's irritated voice. A wry smile appeared on his lips. "Nope." He chuckled at her steamed reaction.

His foot had chosen that moment to start prickling with an obnoxious numb undertone as it fell asleep, and he stood up to put pressure on it, making sure his blatant ignoring of Courtney was obvious enough for her to get even more ticked off. What? If she made herself less physically appealing when she was angry, he'd be sure to not make her so mad.

Unfortunately, as he stood up, his bladder felt oddly heavy, in that annoyingly familiar way. He felt his mouth curve into a frown. Well… this wasn't good.

"Uh, princess?" He cut off whatever ranting she had been doing. "We have a problem."

Courtney gave him a bland look. "No, really?" she inquired sarcastically, folding her arms again.

Hmm—yep. She was gonna fume. He smirked. "I gotta take a leak."

The look on her face answered all his assumptions.

* * *

Courtney felt her eyes go dry as she widened them. She stared, in an almost eerie calmness at him, trying to convince herself that this was his sick attempt at a joke or that her calendar had been totally off and it was really April 1st. When no such thing became concrete after a few moments of watching his face, she shot to her feet.

"Absolutely not!" She clenched her fists to emphasize her exclamation. This was unacceptable. There was no way she'd be a witness to hearing a guy _pee_. The thought made the blood rush to her head so quickly she felt nauseous.

Duncan raised an eyebrow at her. "I can't really help it, doll. Nature calls."

"So _hold_ it!"

He snorted. "There's only so long I can do that."

Courtney frowned hard at him. "You'll do it for however long we're stuck in here." She rubbed her temples furiously.

"Not gonna happen, babe—" Courtney took notice of how he was pressing his legs together now "—when you gotta go, you gotta _go_." She felt a headache coming on… why her?

_Consider yourself lucky,_ cooed the demon-voice, _you get to witness him taking his pants off. Take advantage of the situation and get a good look, if you know what I mean…_

She nearly fainted. Clutching at her throat to make sure she didn't choke on her own spit, Courtney resisted the urge to gag. She needed to see a psychiatrist—there was something officially wrong with the way her thoughts were accumulating.

"You'll hold it," she said firmly, attempting to calm the panicked sound of her voice.

Duncan crossed his arms menacingly. "I refuse to risk pissing in my pants because you're afraid of hearing me—"

"Lubricate?" Courtney offered, dryly.

He grinned.

She pressed on. "And there's nowhere you can even _do_ it. We're in a closet."

His eyes trailed down to her feet to the bucket she had previously tripped in. Courtney scowled, bending down to pick it up. "_Ew_," she concluded, holding it behind her back. "I don't want to be crammed in here with you _and_ with a bucket of your waste."

"I don't see any other option, princess." Duncan stepped forward and loomed over her in what she had decided was his bully-intimidation mode. Well, it wasn't going to work on her.

"I gave you another option," she argued, stepping back and clasping a stronger hold on the accursed bucket. "Just try not to think about it."

Duncan sighed in slight irritation and continued to hold his legs together as he shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not one of those people who can sit through the movie after sucking down a whole drink and go afterwards." He scowled. "I say screw the movie and take care of business."

"Then I suggest you learn how to wait until afterward," she told him, brow furrowing.

"Damn it—just give me the freaking bucket—"

"_No_."

They entered a staring contest, neither one even considering relenting. However, when Duncan's eyes got an odd spark to them, and when a spidery smirk crawled across his face, Courtney couldn't help but lose a little of her confidence.

"Tell me, princess, have you ever played Keys?"

She eyed him warily, instantly suspicious of the topic change. "No… but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

He calmly put his hands behind his back, taking another step closer to her. "You'll see," he said, much too innocent. "In the game, one person holds something, usually the car keys of everyone playing—a bucket, in your case." Courtney suddenly felt nervous when his expression became more predatory.

He continued. "The purpose of the game is to get that person to drop whatever they're holding by making them as… uncomfortable as possible." Her finger started tapping the top of the bucket anxiously. "Normally, the game has a lot of players, but I don't see how it couldn't work with only two."

"Duncan," Courtney started uncertainly, leaning back as he ignored her personal boundaries and came closer still. She scrambled in her brain, trying to think of something to say… nothing.

Blast.

"Nervous, darling?" She scowled at his amused expression, hands fidgeting at the huskier tone of his question.

"Should I be?" she leveled, hoping she sounded more defiant than she looked.

He tweaked his eyebrows. "Yep."

In one swift movement, and before Courtney even registered what was happening, Duncan had pressed his front up against hers. Her immediate reaction, besides the hummingbird-like fluttering of her heart rate, was to slap him away, which she attempted to do, but was thwarted by his hand grasping her wrist.

"Give me the bucket, sweetheart," he said softly, in almost a sing-song knowing voice. Her eye twitched. This guy was way too cocky for his own good.

"I am not listening to you pee!" she strained, near hyperventilation when his other hand moved to the small of her back, pushing her even closer. She held the bucket out of his reach by her free hand, but was seriously having some difficulties. _Oh man, oh man, oh man—_

Her thoughts were moving so fast they were starting to melt into that frantic buzz she had felt many times before. She slammed her heel down onto his own foot, annoyed when he hardly winced at all. His shoes must have been thicker than they looked…

She heard him chuckle by her ear when she huffed, and she felt her stomach drop to her feet when his leg pushed her own legs apart, nearly making her knees buckle. She began a hurried protest, still intent on keeping the bucket away from him. "This is totally—"

Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when his hand moved under her shirt and against her skin, Courtney went into a full consternation. Face heating as though it were next to a fire, she braced her legs and tried to pull away, throat swelling when she felt his breath on her neck.

She went completely rigid, however, when she felt his_ tongue_ slide across the skin on her neck. Now panicking, she unintentionally arched into him to move her hand with the bucket around to the front, which was a bad idea, as it caused his own breathing to hitch and his hand to move higher on her back while still under her shirt.

_Oh my **damn**. _

"Okay, okay!" she shrieked—well, it was more of an eep—loudly. "_Here!_" She threw the bucket across the span of the closet, hearing it smash against the opposite wall and fall to the ground.

Now that her hand was empty, she shoved against Duncan with all her might, effectively separating their intertwined limbs and managing to slap him with enough force to break a window.

As she tried to regain a control on her breathing, she glowered at the extremely satisfied, yet frazzled, look Duncan was giving her, taking no mind of his swelling cheek. "Good girl," he said, in that overly-smug voice he liked to use.

Courtney had to try very hard not to hit him again.

"That was beyond inappropriate, you ape!" she yelled at him, ignoring the fact that he was readying the bucket into the right 'position' and that her throat went raw from the sheer volume of the furious exclamation. She was sure her face was still bright red. "Do you _want_ to be accused of sexual harassment?"

She turned away, nearly screaming as her face reddened even more when he unbuttoned the top of his pants. She heard him pull his zipper down and put her face into her hands, feeling humiliated.

"Oh relax," he said, sounding more-than happy. "Just say you enjoyed it—it's written all over your face."

"You _licked_ me." Had she not heard the disgusting sound of liquid pouring into the now-loathed bucket, she would have turned around to shout this at him. Wow… she was seriously grossed out.

_I'm listening to a guy pee!_ She groaned inwardly. This wasn't happening to her. She prayed that by some twist in reality she would suddenly wake up at home. It didn't work. But then, it never really did.

Duncan laughed at her statement, finishing his… actions before answering. Courtney felt a cool relief when the horrible sound ceased. "I warned you that the objective was to make the person feel uncomfortable," he said, increasingly humored. She heard his zipper move up. "See? Was that really so bad?"

"Yes," she moaned, still in a skeptical stupor—had that honestly just happened? What would happen if they were caught and someone found the bucket of _urine_? The thought forced her to slump to the ground, against the bent-up trashcan. "And I think licking is crossing the line between discomfort and incongruous."

She made sure to fill her voice with venom on the last sentence. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, when he sat down across from her, he seemed entertained.

"Maybe," he agreed smoothly, "but it worked." He leaned forward, lips quirking when Courtney leered at him. "I have a question, though. Are all your bras as lacy as the one you're wearing?"

She couldn't help it—she gaped.

_Well,_ droned The Voice, slightly giddy after the whole event, _his hand was up your shirt…_

"I _hate_ you," she seethed, clenching her teeth so hard she was surprised they didn't crack. And yes, her face was redder than a cherry. Again.

He smirked. "Liar."

* * *

Collette hummed a tune as she stared at the window, trying to remove her mind from the distress that was beginning to claw at it. Her eyes lazily trailed after a car moving down the road in front of their house, hardly cringing even when the fading sunlight reflected off the metal in a blinding flash.

It had been five hours since Courtney's school ended, and she still wasn't home.

Of course, her sister was a very responsible girl, and more than likely she was at a friend's house or something doing homework. The disconcerting thing was that she had also left her phone at home today, and so Collette was licensed to feel a little worried. Normally Courtney would call, even without her phone.

It was probably a good thing their parents were out of town 'de-stressing' for the next four days. Had Courtney not communicated like this to them, they would have already sent out a search party.

But then, she supposed that she also felt anxious for the sole reason that there was some much needed conversation time that she wanted to have with her sister. Collette sighed. She knew that things were going to be awkward… she did have a lot of things to explain.

Her hand dropped to her belly and she rubbed it softly.

The shrill ring of the phone jolted Collette from her contemplating and she carefully bent over to pick it up.

"Hello? Collette speaking."

"Hey, Ettie! What's kicking?" Collette smiled. Out of all of Courtney's friends, Ali had always been her favorite. The girl had such charisma… it was impossible not to like her.

"Just the baby," she answered, giggling as Ali laughed. "How are you, hon?"

"Fan-flipping-tastic. My boyfriend is being an idiot, and I really need to vent to Courtney. Is she home?"

Collette frowned. "She isn't with you?"

"…Um, no. She said she was staying behind to check out something at the school. What—she hasn't called?"

A new terror was starting to fill any contours left within her stomach. "No, no she hasn't. I'm worried now—something must have happened." Silence presumed on the other side of the line before Ali spoke again.

"Okay, I'll call around and see if she's with any of our people… do you think you can go to the school? She drove her car, so if it's not there, then we can mark it off the list." Collette could hear the worry in the younger girl's voice.

"Yes, I'll call you if it's not there."

They quickly said their goodbyes and hung up, Collette taking up a brisk walk to grab her mother's car keys and clicking the button to open the garage. She took slight comfort in the thought that if anybody would stay at a school afterhours by choice, it was Courtney.

* * *

As his gaze wavered unceasingly on the small screen before him, Colon wondered if he was just having a good week, or if the gods had decided to reward him for some unfathomable reason.

It was a complete coincidence that his two subjects had somehow gotten stuck inside the janitor's closet he had put cameras in—the reason being that one of his video projects last year was "The Days of a School Janitor". It hadn't been his choice, but his assignment… and hey, he'd gotten an A.

So, when a little beeper had gone off on his computer to inform him of movement in the normally abandoned closet, he had been more than surprised to see none other than the two former-stars.

It was luck, in other words. Or, if he wanted to take a spin on the normal thought-process of Duncan, it was fate.

"Incredible," he muttered, shaking his head as the two somehow managed to get pulled into another altercation. He had never seen two people with the ability to fight about anything and everything—it was fascinating. He wondered how they never got bored of it.

He also wondered how they got stuck in the closet in the first place; falling down the stairs and spilling paint everywhere even before that. It was like they were _trying_ to help him film them. Surely this situation wouldn't happen in anything but the movies…

However, Colon now understood why Maclean hadn't yet taken any steps into producing another season of the popular reality show—it was because of it's immense popularity that the man was weary of choosing new victims. The old ones had been much more perfect than any of the shows producers could have hoped.

Chuckling at some of the commentary going on between the two unfortunate persons stranded together, Colon practically felt the spark of an idea that suddenly lit in his head.

Oh yeah… he was definitely having a good week.

* * *

Duncan grumbled to himself when he felt and heard his stomach growl yet again. Ugh… he was starving. He didn't know how long exactly they had been stuffed in this closet for, but if he didn't get some food soon, he was going to go nuts.

He sighed and looked at Courtney, whom he was amused to see was closing her eyes and tapping her fingers to an unknown beat against the floor.

Her tanned skin was emphasized by the dimmer lighting of the enclosed room, and he could see her long, dark lashes curling over the very top of her cheeks. Her hair was still up in the pony-tail, which he liked a lot as it always exposed her neck and shoulders. He found himself subconsciously counting the freckles splayed across her nose.

Okay, so he had it bad. Big deal.

Actually, it was a big deal. He had never actually _liked_ any girl before. Not in the way he liked Courtney. Never opposed to a good make-out session here and there with a flippantly attractive girl, and never reading into any of those heated kisses, Duncan had no experience in the ways of _crushing_. The word itself made him shudder.

Sure, he could charm any girl off her feet if he wanted to 'get some', but he hadn't paid more attention than that to any of the female race since he was in elementary school. And needless to say, when Courtney first came along, in all her uptight-CIT-glory, he had willingly ignored her.

He had never been interested in her type—the type who was so by the book that even a piece of lint would throw off their entire appearance. Courtney played that type to a tee; she even risked overplaying it.

_'Oh? And why should I help you, darling?'_

_'Because, I can personally guarantee you that if we lose this game, you'll be the one going home, **darling**.'_

As the words rolled through his head, he couldn't help but smirk. That had been when he first noticed a certain… bite she had about her. Yeah, she was bossy anyway, but standing up to him? He had been intrigued.

Had his old self looked forward to the future to see him now, he would probably be a little more than disgusted. Duncan, whose only interests in girls had been the guilty pleasures they offered, was in deep for a girl who thought one missing assignment was the end of the world. It was a freaking malediction.

For Hell's sake—he wouldn't even _know_ what a malediction was had he not been around Courtney for so long.

And then there was the part that he _cared_ what she thought. While he might try the occasional grope, or throw her for a loop with some of his more voyeur-esteemed comments, he reserved a sense of caution that almost resembled respect for her.

It was apalling. And yet…

Duncan grinned mockingly at Courtney when she let out a loud yawn and stretched her arms, opening her eyes enough to glare at him.

"What?" she growled, slumping in unease. She did that a lot when people looked at her; almost like she was self-conscious.

"Nothing," he began lightly, eyes naughtily lowering as they caught another flash of cleavage. "I'm just debating something."

"What?" she asked again, her voice losing a bit of snap in the question.

"Oh whether or not groping you would be worth another slap."

Her eyes widened as she hurriedly folded her arms in front of her chest—he inwardly snickered at this—and narrowed when he grinned at her. "I don't even know what to say to you, sometimes," she deadpanned.

Duncan leaned forward. "Oh, come on, princess. You should be flattered—I'd let you jump my bones anytime."

She slapped a hand to her forehead, her palm covering her face to try and cover the red growing over it. "_Duncan…!_"

Her shout trailed off abruptly when there was a timid knock at the door. He turned his eyes to meet Courtney's raises brows.

"Uh… Courtney?" came a voice from outside the door, barely discernable. "Is that you?"

The mocha-haired girl across from him leapt up so fast even he was surprised. "Collette? Oh my—yeah! Can you get the door open? It's jammed down pretty hard."

They heard the knob shake a few times; nothing happened. "Hold on," came the voice again; Duncan meanwhile, was wondering who this 'Collette' person was, and why Courtney seemed so excited.

He nearly jumped a foot in the air when the extremely loud sound of something smashing metal resounded into the closet. "What's she hitting the knob with, a mallet?"

At long last they heard a _jing_ and the door was opened slowly, the lighting from the hallway pouring into the small room.

Courtney let out a loud peal of laughter and flung herself at the newcomer, an older woman, maybe in her early twenties, hugging her tightly. "Oh! Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!" she cried, slurring the words together. The woman looked positively bewildered, and looked even more confused when Duncan came out of the closet. He merely shrugged at her.

"Um, Courtney, dear…" the woman, whom he presumed was Collette, started, sounding boggled, "why were you locked in a closet with a boy?"

He couldn't resist smirking at Courtney when she flushed. "We accidentally spilled paint everywhere and we hid in there to avoid the janitor… and then the door knob got smashed down."

"You mean that janitor?" Collette said, pointing up the stairs. Lo-and-behold… there he was. A giant of a man, eyes closed and mouthing words as he listened to a headphone set, scrubbing the floors. Courtney's mouth formed an 'o' shape. She grabbed the woman's hand and began pulling her.

"Quick! We can't let him see!"

Duncan chose this time to speak up, following them at a leisurely place. "Oi, princess. If he didn't notice all your yelling before, he's probably not gonna notice now." She shot him a withering glare when her sister questioningly voiced "Princess?"

He ignored the glare and turned to the woman. "And how'd you break the handle anyway?" he asked, curious, as they continued walking out of the building.

Collette looked embarrassed. "Heh, you see, I have this weird habit…"

Courtney snorted. "You still carry that brick around with you?" Duncan blanched. A _brick_?

"Hey!" she said defensively. "It's better to be safe than sorry—and look how it saved your butts!" It was silent a moment more as Duncan pondered on _why_ her weapon of choice would be a brick, and then Courtney spoke up.

"Oh, right. Collette, this is Duncan. Duncan, this is my sister."

Ah…that explained the similarity in looks. Her sister was a bit taller, and well, pregnant, also having a darker hair color, but their eyes were the same. "Pleasure," she said, glancing between him and Courtney with a raised eyebrow, giving them a silent gesture to explain more of their previous situation.

Courtney stayed silent, lips pursed. He grinned lightly at her sister. "The pleasure is all mine. Courtney's only ever mentioned you once before."

"Huh. So, how long have you guys known each other?"

"Way too long," cut in Courtney, stopping in front of her car and ignoring her sister's look at her rudeness. "I'll meet you at home, Ettie." Collette frowned, still looking suspicious, but waved to Duncan and started to walk to her own car, belly swaying.

"See you later, Duncan!" she called, without turning around. He smirked; he liked this girl.

"Definitely," he answered back, glancing at Courtney haughtily as she glared at her sister's back. "What? Like I'm actually going to stay _away_ from you?"

"I would prefer that…"

"Sucks for you, then." He inwardly cursed the night-setting. It was becoming rather difficult to suppress the urge to press her against her car and begin an intoxicating series of kisses from her neck to her lips. He could still feel her body flush against his from this afternoon… and it was driving him mad.

"You know," he continued, grabbing her chin with his thumb and forefinger, "you should really appreciate my self-control."

She smacked his hand away, rolling her eyes and walking to the door of her car. "You should learn to appreciate the _concept_ of self-control. From what I… experienced today, you have none." Psh. If only she knew…

"Fine then. You'll believe me soon enough."

She crinkled her nose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He smiled at her, his eyes lidded. "I like to go off things right after they start, princess. I'll see you tomorrow for your part of the bargain." He watched in a sadistic pleasure as her eyes widened in realization.

"But—"

"No buts," Duncan said, waving a finger at her. "You bet, you lost—now you suffer the consequences." He stuffed a hand into his pocket. "Meet me at the bus stop near the park at five tomorrow."

She looked very distraught by this information, as if she had been expecting him to forget. Letting out a loud sigh, she consented, "Oh, very well." With one last glare and no goodbye, she slammed her door shut and drove out of the parking lot. His eyes watched as her tail lights faded into the distance.

Point, set, and match.

* * *

_Okay, first off, let me just say that this whole situation is very possible. Last week, my school had a lock-down, and my friend and I, along with three other kids, got stuck in this janitor 'office' room. And then one 'had' to pee. Oh my friggin gosh--I was so disturbed._

_As for Keys, yes, it is a real game. I've played it. Hah--and Duncan wasn't trying to be all suggestive with the whole licking thing, he was just trying to get the bucket. Anything goes... this one kid once bit me. BIT ME. On the freaking hip. I lost, needless to say..._

_Gabbiez: Yes, he is getting more touchy-feely. Good, yes? Haha I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter. _

_Macatly: That line was my favorite too! Thanks for your review!_

_Shimo Ino: Yay! I'm glad you love this! 'Tis my pleasure to write situations such as this. Thanks so much!_

_Heirate Mich: YES! You are correct! Clueless is one of my favorite movies, and that line brings me such happiness--I couldn't help but bring it in. Thanks for the review!_

_Temari's Angel: I liked that advice part too. And no, I have nothing against Courtney. She's actually one of my very favorite characters; she's just easy to pick on--not to worry! Duncan will get his fair share of unfortunate happenings! Thanks!_

_BackstageTheatreChick: Haha thanks so much! I hope you enjoyed Duncan's ponderings in this chapter!_

_MusicLover48: I updated! :D_

_totaldramaislandlover: I fudging love your reviews. And you're right, Duncan doesn't really have much self control..._

_BrodwayBabe4: I know, right! And this chapter WAS fun... thanks!_

_alienphantom: hahaha! Not quite a rape... but close. Thanks!_

_Loser with a pen: -gasp- Harold would want my skills?! YES! Hah--thanks for your words! And dude, you like... are beyond my skill level. I'm so happy to see you like this story, though!_

_chicago718: Are you kidding me? You're an awesome writer! Haha, I love the word blasphemy too! And you're so nice! I really appreciated your reveiw!_

_aquamutt: ...what? You've never made up words before? haha :)_

_Cartoonfire: Yes, I did mean it literally. Yay! I gave you joys! That chapter, and this one, were rather fun to write--hehe, I love that you appreicate my cynical humor. And maybe one day The Voice will sway her to the dark side... -muahaha-_

_Amethyst Ocean: He was hardly able to conrtrol himself, you were right. Heh, I think this chapter might have been a little steamier, eh? And you're so freaking nice, I'm really not that good, I just apply a more cynical twist to situations and by luck make it funny. AND DUDE! I thought about having Colon like Courtney, but then I'm like, nah. It would be a little too cheesy then... Duncan is a beast. Haha, have I mentioned that I adore your reviews? Because I do... a lot._

_UnderxGravity: Hah! ME TOO! I don't even know why I get so angry, I just do. And I hope Duncan's contemplations gave you your answer on whether or not he would still like her--Yeah, I'm pretty sure he would, otherwise he probably woudn't have put so much effort into the chase, ya know?_

_wingedfighter: -snort- Courtney will have her own self-control issues, I assure you._

_La La La...: Thanks!_

_Sushichica: -twitch- I think that you should be a professional editor, or something of the sort--you're that good. I feel like your my teacher, like I have to do better and live up to all your compliments. I'm in awe, you rock that hard. And Courtney's reverse-conscience is extremely fun to write--she totally is a neurotic headcase. And SAT words? Haha, that's funny, considering I've never taken it. :P I would blame my enlgish teacher last year for hammering all those words into my brain last year..._

_Thanks for the editting, seriously. And Colon just MAY cause some future situations... -cough- But I'm not saying anything. And yes, -sigh- I love my ellipses. They're addicting; as is slipping into the passive tense. Thanks for pointing those out--I tend to forget I do have a few nasty habits. _

_And okay, this doesn't really hold any relevence to the chapter, but every time I see your name, I swear I've seen it SOMEWHERE before... and then it hit me. I totally remember reading your "Ex-boyfriend" fic years ago, when I was like twelve, and loving it. Haha, small world, eh? I remember thinking, if this person ever reviews one of my stories, my life will he happy. _

_Dramatic Melody: Yay! I was so happy when you reviewed--I'm a big fan of yours. Thanks for your edits, they're much appreciated. The dialogue one, "Thank you, for that." was more to live up to actual speaking--it doesn't necessarily have to have perfect grammer; although, that's totally my opinon, and I was so glad to see yours. Thanks you SO much for the review! _

_Forest Scion: Kudos are yummy... thanks for the review!_

_Villanelle EVE: Ah! Thanks so much!_

_xiayou: Thanks! And things will just keep getting better for Courtney... not to worry. _

_WolfGirl: Thank you!_

_Erectile Dysfunction: Ahaha! He totally would try humping her leg. And I do hope you write your own story! I would read it! _

_Willa: Thanks! hehe_

Next chapter: How will Courtney react to doing something totally illegal? Not even I know...


	9. Motor Theft

_*clears throat* Uhhh......HI! Well, I'm not dead, nor did I get kidnapped at Disneyland and never return. See, there was this little thing called life that just so happened to hit me in the face with a bat. It was great fun. However! I am back and I warn you now that my updates will not be as frequent as they once were. I'm still trying to get a handle on many things. In the past six months I have seen two people die, a friend have to get brain surgery (he can't move the left side of his face now), more friend drama than a person should be allowed to have, and now college is like an impending doom that has taken over my life. _

_I truly appreciate all those who are still rooting for me and who have supported this story throughout its entire process--you guys really really REALLY make a difference. This chapter is nice and long and hopefully it will sustain your reading-addictions for as long as it takes for me to get another chapter up. I really have no intention of dropping this story, but I feel obligated to warn you that, yeah, life right now is hard, and as such, my inspiration is waning. _

_I love you ALL and I really hope you enjoy this. Courtney is in over her head. And Duncan.... well, he's enjoying every second of it._

**Chapter Nine**

Courtney tried to ignore the sly look of her sister, spooning another mouthful of cereal into her mouth and keeping her eyes focused on the china cabinets in front of her. She hated _that_ look. The look that would keen in on her until she got annoyed enough to crack—a masterful look only perfected by her sister and Duncan. It was an extremely irritating combination.

Even though her mouth was full, Courtney took yet another bite, attempting to crunch loud enough so that her ears were too distracted to take notice of the words she knew her sister would say.

"You like him, don't you?"

_How did I know?_ she thought sarcastically, turning to Collette with as menacing a glare as she could muster up with her cheeks resembling those of a chipmunk. She forced herself to swallow before deepening the glare.

"No, I don't."

Collette didn't cease in her knowing smile. "Courtney, you were locked in a closet with him—I've never seen you so flustered around a boy before. And let's not forget the lovely pet name he had for you, right _princess_?"

Courtney slammed her palm on the counter top, making the milk in her bowl splash up in little bubble-like droplets. "He just does that to annoy me, the act of which you are succeeding in as of now. And I wasn't flustered because of _him_, because in case you hadn't noticed at the time, I had been stuck in a smelly janitor's closet for hours."

She sniffed and continued. "I would say any difference in my persona was quite justified."

Collette raised an eyebrow, intertwining her fingers in a diplomatic fashion. "I'm not blind, love. I saw the way he almost kissed you after I 'left'."

"He didn't almost kiss me!" Courtney exclaimed, scandalized. Had she missed something? Duncan hadn't been that close… had he? Her mind relayed over the instance in which he mentioned that she should appreciate his self control, leaning down and bringing her chin up. _Oh yeah._

She gave a hurried response before Collette had time to insinuate anything. "He was just, er, being condescending." Maybe that wasn't the right word.

The darker-haired girl leaned her chin on her hand as she observed her in a skeptical way. Courtney put her hands up in defense. "I'm serious!"

Collette rolled her eyes. "Why was he being condescending?"

Crap. "Because I lost a bet," Courtney mumbled quietly, forcing her sister to lean further over the counter to hear. The older girl snorted, a hand dropping to her protruding stomach.

"You actually made a bet?"

_Her tonicity is valid,_ said The Voice, bored. _You never would have even considered making a bet if Duncan weren't involved. _

_That's not true!_ Courtney thought back, affronted. Of course, when fighting against herself, she half-realized that the argument was futile. Deep within her head, she knew it was true; she knew that having Duncan around spurred on different nuances in her life, little modulations that were slowly beginning to show themselves in more than just her thoughts.

How a boy could do that, she didn't have a clue. What she did know, however, was that it was an invariable liability. One that should be omitted permanently—she just had to figure out how.

"Yes," answered Courtney bitterly, deciding that she was not above sulking as she slumped in her seat. It was silent for a few seconds as Collette pondered this.

"He's not really your type—"

"Thank you!"

"—but I like him. And you two look good together."

Courtney felt her jaw drop, and was reminded of a swing's rope snapping off. Okay, she could admit that she was, _possibly_, physically attracted to Duncan. But even she knew what a 'cute couple' was. There were the couples, like Geoff and Bridgette, who just went together—the ones that matched each other, very much in the literal sense. She and Duncan were on polar opposite sides of the appearance scale. Beyond that, even.

They were the kind of people who could tarnish the other's image; they just didn't _go _together by nature.

Courtney ignored the pricks of disappointment this rationale brought her, and tuned her disbelief in on her sister. "Are you visually impaired, Ettie? Did you even see him last night? You know, the one with the _green_ mohawk and the pincushion of a face?"

"He was cute!" Collette argued, laughing at Courtney's choice in words.

"Yeah, in a totally 'I'm-bad-and-you-should-seriously-beware-of-me' kind of way! Not exactly the kind of guy you can sigh and ogle over."

"I dunno," her sister drawled, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "he had something going for him."

Courtney sighed in exasperation and pushed her cereal away. "Whatever." She gently massaged her temples. "But now I have to go meet him tonight and 'perform my duties'. I don't even know what I have to do!"

"Tough luck, girl," said Collette (Courtney noted how she lacked any sympathy whatsoever) before she got up to wash the dishes that were piled up next to the sink. "Pass me your bowl?"

Groaning, Courtney heaved her body up off the stool and handed her bowl over to her sister, watching without any real intensity as the soap suds filled in over the leftover pieces of cereal. Her eyes wandered to the large belly swaying from side to side as Collette hummed a random tune.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked, timid. This was new territory—she didn't even know her sister had been pregnant when she left. The subject had to be approached with utmost precision and caution.

Collette's form stiffened, and then she let out a slow exhale. "A girl," she said softly, drying a plate with a white towel she'd grabbed from the cupboard above her head.

As she watched the smooth circles that the towel was wound into as it dried the drops of water lacing the plate, Courtney didn't take notice of how her teeth were gnawing creases into the inside of her mouth. By instinct, her mind sifted through a few names she had always liked for baby girls, and though her mouth opened to say them aloud, no words came out. After a few moments, she gave up and continued to watch, more unanswered questions peaking in her brain.

"And Ross?" she asked finally, specifying the name of her sister's used-to-be fiancé.

The water from the faucet splayed out in a drone-like fashion when Collette placed another plate under it. Courtney became entranced by the liquid shapes being formed against the china piece.

"…I don't know."

Her answer was simple. But Courtney knew from experience that nothing was simple. Not really.

* * *

"Duncan, you're going and that's final."

The said delinquent rubbed his eyes slowly, trying to contemplate why his mother was being so insistent upon forcing him to go and _bond_ with his eldest brother and his new wife. First of all, he and Jake were close enough. Second, he didn't _want_ to.

"You do realize," he began snidely, "that they just got off their honeymoon, right? I don't particularly want to be around a couple of smut-stricken, twitter-pated idiots while they coo and snuggle."

His mother waved his comment off, teasing her hair offhandedly with a small comb. "Oh, you'll be fine—Jake can control himself, and Jaime's never been one for excessive PDA."

Duncan groaned at the juvenile term. "Right. Which is why we found them making out, more than half-undressed, might I add, before they left."

"Well, it's not like they were expecting anybody to be home—"

"Mom," he cut her off quickly, "they were in the kitchen." He paused. "On the _counter_."

She opened her mouth to retort, but his dad's voice interrupted, piercing through the room. "Kelsey! We're going to be late, and I'm supposed to be there early." Duncan snorted at how nervous he sounded; apparently 'Officer Keiths' was supposed to be getting some sort of award at whatever ceremony they were going to for his services. "I have to go prepare my speech—you know that Alberts will be there trying to muck it up for me."

His mother sighed. "I'm coming, dear. Calm down—I'm sure Rob won't 'muck' anything up." She turned to Duncan, who was struggling to hold in his laughter. "Now then, I'll expect a good report from Jake when I get home."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Report? We're going out to eat, not to jump in the middle of one of your cases."

"Just behave yourself, please."

He grunted in response, watching in boredom as she quickly finished with her hair and pinned her badge on, strutting out of the bedroom and snapping at his dad, who was still spewing out some sort of commentary on getting her to hurry up.

He hated having policemen as parents. And siblings, and cousins, and uncles… not to mention the two great aunts twice removed.

Letting out a sigh, Duncan closed the door to his parents room as he walked out, keeping his face stoic when he walked down the hall only to meet up with the scorching mental image of his brother and sister-in-law passionately intertwined in some ravaging sort of lip-lock. He winced.

"Will you two stop playing tonsil tag so we can get this over with?" His brow rose when Jaime practically sprung off of his brother, face flushing. Jake merely looked annoyed.

"Why do you want to go now?" his brother finally asked, scratching the back of his head as he wiped splotches of lipstick off of his mouth. "Mom and dad won't be back until late tonight—"

"Actually, I think your mom told me she was planning on surprising your dad with a hotel room as a… congratulatory reward for winning his award tonight," Jaime cut in, clearing her throat.

Oh, the horror. Duncan felt a grimace sport on his face as he thought upon the 'congratulatory reward' his parents would be participating in. _Sick._

"See?" Jake held out his hands in front of him. "We'll go tonight."

"I can't go tonight," Duncan protested after ridding his mind off all the traumatizing mental pictures and crossing his arms. Jake raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

The corners of Duncan's lips turned upwards slyly. "I have a date."

Jake snorted. "You? On a _date_?" Of course, his skeptical tone wasn't surprising. Neither Duncan nor his brothers were really the dating type. The closest thing Duncan had ever experienced to a date was being _introduced_ to a girl in a club (whom he had proceeded to kiss until he got bored—in other words, what any other respectable teenage boy would do in the same situation) his brother Brent had gotten him into, and even that was arguable. She hadn't been that interested either, after all.

"Cute!" Jaime gushed, sweeping her hair behind her shoulders. "Can we meet her?"

"I hope this one doesn't ask for some 'smokes'…"

Duncan grinned at the reference to the last girl his family had met. "So she was a little unrefined—"

"She was wearing a shirt that said 'Don't screw with me…unless you bring condoms.'" Jake frowned, crinkling his nose. "I think that was a bit more than unrefined."

"She was hot," Duncan shrugged, grin broadening. "And besides, _this_ one would probably pass out from the smell of cigarette smoke, not to mention start a petition banning 'crude language' from shirts if she ever saw a sexual reference on one."

Duncan's mind went into an amused comatose state as he pondered this; he ignored his brother's laughter at how he could possibly be interested in a girl like that, and automatically coerced the newlyweds off the couch and into the car. He made a mental note to wear a shirt like that, if for no purpose other than to see just how Courtney would react.

He lethargically sprawled out in the backseat of the car, eyes lazily roaming the outside world as it became a physical blur. It was only twelve-thirty, and he was already bored. The hours until five o'clock seemed so far away it only made him more bored to think about it.

Jaime pulled him from his revere. "So," she started teasingly, "when are you going to join in the family business? Jake started training when he was your age."

She laughed when he casually flipped her off, sitting up straighter in the seat. "You're hilarious," he drawled sarcastically, tweaking one of his earrings.

"Conforming to our family's standards isn't really that bad, Duncan," added Jake, looking in the rearview mirror to smile smugly at him. "It pays well, and you meet really attractive girls." Jaime rolled her eyes and grinned at him.

Duncan didn't bother to hide his twitch at their disgusting display of flirting.

It had always been a running joke with his brothers, his whole extended family, actually, that Duncan would finally give in and stop his 'rebellion'. Yeah, right. He was hardly _rebelling_—it was more of his way of patronizing his parents and driving the rest of the relatives crazy.

But it wasn't like they could relate, even if they said they could. While he loved that he could drive all of them past the boundaries of frustration with his more unlawful antics, it was difficult to have more than twenty pairs of eyes watching his every move. He was the epitome of the black sheep in any family.

He relished that fact.

It didn't take much longer until they reached the 'main street' of the area; a town square with dainty little antique stores and name-oriented restaurants. The scene of himself stepping out of the car and frightening all the happy-go-lucky residents of the shops with his mere appearance entered his head randomly.

The thought coerced an entertained chuckle out of his throat.

"Alright, where to?" Jake inquired as he pulled up along the curb of the street.

Duncan tapped at the phone in his pocket offhandedly. He turned his less than interested gaze to an ice-cream store across from where they were parked, gleaming in all it's cheery-kid-friendly glory. He opened his mouth to aim a scathingly sarcastic comment at it when Jaime unknowingly interrupted him.

"Ice-cream! I suddenly have a desire to satisfy my sweet tooth—let's go there!"

Duncan made a face, his lips curling at her overly-excited tone. "Seriously?" he groaned, pushing open the door. "Because when you can see your reflection on the tile, the place becomes a real turn-off," he added after catching a glimpse of the shining floors when a small girl went skipping out of the store, the sprinkles of her cone leaving a trail behind her as she swayed giddily.

His contempt increased ten-fold when he heard one of those despicably atrocious over-played barbershop songs chiming in the background when they neared the building.

"It's just ice-cream," reasoned Jake, pulling the door open, a high-pitched bell signifying their entrance when the door clanged against it. "Besides, once we're done you can go off and do anything your criminal mind can come up with. I'm off duty."

Duncan hunched his shoulders, sighing. If his parents wanted him to be babysat, so be it. And it wasn't like Jake wanted to play the part of the watchdog either—they just had to deal with it until their mom was appeased and their dad satisfied, both stuck in the ridiculous mentality that Jake's influence would 'spread' to Duncan.

Please. But, it was worth it if they remained somewhat content; at times it got rather… tense between himself and his parents. It was better if he just went along with their fantasies: one being bonding time.

Sometimes, he wondered if he cared too much.

And he didn't even _like _ice-cream.

"Anything catch your eye?" Jaime asked, her eyes glued to the many different flavors under the glass of the counter.

"I'm not sure," Duncan began snidely. "It's a hard decision—pink cotton candy swirl or sweet bubblegum chew." Jake, who had been talking to the cashier, discreetly covered up a snort of laughter with a cough.

He derisively blocked out anything his sister-in-law said in response, leaning back on his heels and turning to look out the large windows lining the store walls. His eyes widened in recognition when he spotted the blonde girl, the one always hanging around Courtney, as she walked by, chatting on her phone.

Slightly intrigued, Duncan stepped forward until he was out of the shop, growling as the sharp jangle of the bell sounded off again when the door opened. The girl—her name escaped him… Amy?—had stopped walking and was now leaning up against the wall. She was close enough for him to hear what she was, well, exclaiming:

"…I swear Court, if he flirts with that girl one more time, I'm gonna—"

She broke off with a gasp, pausing as the other speaking said something. "He isn't doing it to make me jealous! He's doing it because he has no respect for me as his _girlfriend_!"

Duncan snorted, head quickly forming a plan. He could be wrong in assuming "Court" was Courtney, but he was normally right in anything concerning her. He briskly walked up to the girl, Alex, or whatever, and grabbed her phone.

"Mind if I borrow this for just a sec? Thanks." He chuckled at her expression—which most closely resembled someone who's puppy had died—before smirking as Courtney, who was the other speaker, rattled off some more 'girl advice'.

"Sorry to break off your words of wisdom, princess, but I have my own counsel for you."

He shot the blonde girl a lazy grin when Courtney cut off abruptly, taking a deep breath that was quite audible from his side of the phone. _"Duncan? What have you done with Ali?!"_

So that was her name. He made a mental check. "I haven't done anything to her," he said, rolling his eyes.

_"Well, what do you want? Why do you even need to talk to me?"_

It was obvious she wasn't very happy; Ali could seemingly hear it too as she covered her mouth to stop a smile. "In case you didn't notice, darling, I don't have your number—it was just a coincidence that your friend happened to be walking by, talking to you, too."

"_Let me guess… fate?"_ Her voice held such heavy sarcasm Duncan couldn't help but grin.

"You're catching on!" he said happily, making his voice smug. "But anyway," he started quickly, before she could yell at him, "I forgot to tell you that it might be best to wear black tonight." He paused, grinning as he added, "And when I say black… I mean those little spandex shorts you wore in P.E. the other day." He winked as Ali gave a humored smile, tapping her foot impatiently. She must have been one of those fanatic-phone-OCD girls.

He waited for Courtney's response, only to be rewarded with the other line going flat.

"…She hung up on me."

Ali snorted, grabbing her phone back. "Tough luck. And next time you need to 'borrow' someone's phone, I suggest you wait until they're done with their conversation."

Duncan crossed his arms. "I'll keep that in mind. But… if you see Courtney before tonight, tell her that it probably is a good idea to wear black and to not be late." She gave him a look.

"Because you asked_ so_ nicely and all."

He gave her a challenging smile. "What? Courtney hasn't mentioned I'm not nice? I don't know if I should be flattered or not."

Ali raised an eyebrow, unbuttoning the top of her purse to daintily drop her phone in. "I dunno—Courtney wasn't the only one who saw your unusual aptitude for animals." Flashing him her own smile, she turned and walked away, leaving Duncan feeling rather… undermined.

But then, what else could he expect from somebody who spent their time under Courtney's influence?

* * *

Courtney blew a strand of hair from her face as she sat on the bench. She sighed when the bus that had been rumbling in front of the stop she was sitting at started to move, the driver shooting one last confused look towards her. She pursed her lips.

It wasn't unusual for somebody to sit at a bus stop, but it was a little odd that that person would continue to sit at a bus stop when the bus _left_.

Of course, she wouldn't have even needed to experience the bus coming and going if she hadn't been waiting at the stop for, oh, an hour. But she wasn't mad. She had only been sitting on the same bench, in the same spot, for sixty minutes and forty-three seconds, but who was counting?

Her nose cringing in contempt, Courtney urged her legs to stand up. She brushed off her pants—_black _pants—and forced herself to take a deep breath. It wasn't like she was eager to live up to actually losing the bet she had made, but at least she had the decency to do what she (kind of) agreed to!

She would have to walk home now, too. Collette had gone to the hospital for an overnight stay—she had been having supposed stomach problems, and while she was sure it was fine, Courtney had been the one to urge her to stay the night, just in case. And she had left her phone in the car.

_Wonderful._

Courtney sighed. She couldn't say that she wasn't relieved—perhaps Duncan had just forgotten, though, that was unlikely. So, either he had done whatever he was going to make her do on his own, or something happened to delay him…

_You're worried,_ snickered The Voice tauntingly. Courtney stiffened.

As if. She wasn't worried. Not at all.

So caught up in denying whether or not she was worried, because she _totally_ wasn't, Courtney nearly had an aneurysm when a hand latched onto her arm. Her own hand when up to slap the defender in hopes that she could run away; unfortunately, it was caught before any damage could be done.

"Damn, princess! Jumpy much?"

Courtney's eyes narrowed after she had gotten over the initial shock and discontent of seeing him. "_You!_ I can't believe you!"

Duncan narrowed his own eyes, quirking an eyebrow. "Can't believe me what?"

"I've been waiting here for an hour. An hour! Do you know all of the other things I could have done in an hour? This is a complete waste of time—I don't even know why I bothered to come. Only you would make someone wait before making them do something else. I still don't even know what I have to do, and you made me wait! I should—"

Her fury increased when Duncan placed his hand over her mouth, looking up to the sky and muttering something incoherent. He removed his appendage when she fumed in silence, grabbing her wrist and pulling her over to a car parked alongside the sidewalk. "Come on, sweetheart. We're late."

Courtney gaped.

"Then why didn't you show up an hour ago?!"

Duncan clenched his jaw and sighed, opening the door up and practically shoving her in. "I had to convince my brother to let me use his car—it was more difficult than I originally planned."

Courtney let out a little huff when he closed her door and walked over to his own, climbing in and suddenly turning his slight irritation into his normal cockiness. "Aw, no spandex? I got all excited for nothing."

Shaking her head at the quick topic change, Courtney increased her glower when he smirked and turned his attention to the road, drifting into the early-evening traffic. "Don't I at least get to know where we're going? And why we have to wear black? And—"

"Calm down," Duncan cut in, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, amused. "I'll explain things to you when we get there."

Courtney bit on her tongue, leaning back into the seat. She allowed herself to relax somewhat as he drove on, moving between cars and speeding up as they entered a main road. Unfortunately, it was a little hard to relax. She had never exactly pictured herself driving in a car with Duncan.

And for whatever reason, that particular picture was weird. Her stomach gave a little tingle when she registered the enclosed space, and decided that she had been in far too close proximity with him for much more of the weekend than she ever would have wanted. She had to stop herself from sighing in frustration at the thought.

She still failed to figure out what it was about him that got to her. Yes, okay, she had been attracted to the exhilaration he offered on the island, but she had been a little desperate then—the mention of food had put her brain into a rolling state that she hadn't come out of until after she had gone to the Playa del Losers.

Courtney folded her arms, tapping her fingers against her skin gently. Even in the resort, she had continued to dwell in whatever allurement had contained her. She would be lying if she said she hadn't gotten all giddy when he made all his shout-outs to her from the confession-cam, and she wouldn't really be telling the truth if she said she didn't constantly wish he was voted off for the mere reason that she would have seen him again.

But then… they had parted, just like everyone else. And while people like Bridgette and D.J. and others had emailed her and kept her updated on their daily lives, Duncan had seemed to fade out of existence. He hadn't given out his number either, so what was she supposed to do?

And now that he was back in her life, he just expected her to fall into his arms again? The mere implication of that was insulting! It only proved her theory that he wanted whatever he couldn't have—that or he was bored.

Personally, Courtney couldn't see why he was still chasing her. She wasn't a very interesting person to people like him, and while she considered herself relatively good-looking, there wasn't even a chance she was on the same scale that someone like Lindsey or even _Heather _was. That was what had confused her so much on the island… and what maybe propelled her to liking him in the first place.

She supposed it made her feel wanted, and although she had had boyfriends before, none of them had really been flings. The prospect had been exciting.

Courtney slid down further in her seat. But that was just it—during the end of the show, she had hoped it wouldn't be only a fling. _How pathetic…_she thought, frowning. Especially now that she was, once again, struggling with the difficulties he presented in her life. She had gotten over him, and he had to show up.

_You do realize that you're going in circles here, right?_ The Voice questioned apathetically. _Even if you don't believe in fate, why not take the opportunity it's given you?_

_What opportunity?_ The question she asked herself rolled around in her mind. She didn't know how to answer it. After what had happened to her sister, she didn't really want to answer it, either.

Scratching the back of her head, Courtney leaned forward, sighing. Her eyes snapped to Duncan when he laughed.

"What's wrong, princess? Bored already?"

"I'm more annoyed if anything."

Duncan raised his eyebrows, giving her one of his aggravating grins. "What's to be annoyed about? You're spending the evening with yours truly." Courtney rolled her eyes, shifting her body away from his gaze when it landed on her black tank-top. It was the only black clothing item she had! It wasn't like she _wanted_ to expose herself.

_Are you sure about that…?_ chanted her evil voice smugly.

Courtney felt a growl build in her throat.

Before she could prepare a witty response, Courtney was forced to tightly clench onto anything her hands could reach as Duncan sharply swerved into a small alleyway, narrowly avoiding crashing into another car. Actually, she was very proud she didn't scream… but maybe that was because she had been too frightened to make any kind of sound.

Her heart beating wildly, she turned and gave Duncan an incredulous look. "What?" he asked, shrugging. "We made it, didn't we? Now get out—we've got to walk from here."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Courtney was sure she felt the beginnings of a headache forming, but she consented and clambered out of the vehicle, straightening her shirt as she stood up and glanced around. She eyed the graffiti and the broken beer bottles warily. "Is this place safe?" she asked uncertainly, stepping over a pile of shattered glass.

She looked up just as Duncan wrapped an arm around her waist and began pulling her along. "You'll be fine if you stick with me."

About to protest, Courtney was stopped mid-breath when she saw a man at the edge of one of the pathways that canalled out of the large alleyway. He was looking at them uninterestedly, but he was twirling a knife around his fingers. Courtney's words were swallowed in a small squeaking sound and her hand latched onto Duncan's shirt instinctively.

She could practically feel her pride nagging at her when he stared down at her and smirked after he'd blinked in surprise.

And, of course, he had no difficulty in hooking his thumb into the brim of her pants, making their walk much more intimate than Courtney was sure he even intended. But then, one never knew when it came to Duncan. _Pig._

However, she was probably more disturbed by how much comfort she took in this position.

It didn't take much longer before they had silently made their way to a sidewalk and an actual road. Courtney's inner-clock was hinting that it was probably around seven-thirty now; it had, as of late, been getting darker much earlier in the day, which was most likely what made those flickering lamp posts much more intimidating than they should have been.

Duncan loosened his hold on her and stopped walking, turning her body so that she was facing him. Courtney raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to tell me what I have to do now? Because seriously, I'm getting kind of creeped out."

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I couldn't really tell you before because I knew you would probably refuse to come."

"Oh come on, as long as it's nothing perverted or illegal, I'll be fine." It was then that Courtney noticed how Duncan cringed at her words before giving her a sheepish smile. "…_no way_."

"You already gave your word," argued Duncan quickly. "And besides, this isn't even _that_ illegal—"

"It's still illegal!" she hissed, beyond infuriated. She felt nervous shivers make their way down her spine when she looked around the area they were in. "This is not acceptable—I can't do something that could put me in _jail_!"

"Please; like I'm gonna let us get caught." He held up a hand when Courtney furiously opened her mouth. "_Listen._ All you have to do is help me purchase some bike parts imported in—the chick running this place is on some guy-hiatus and refuses to sell to me. I made her a deal, and you're part of the bargaining chip. Just go through some paperwork, give her the check, and we're outta here."

Courtney had grown more panicked with each word that came out of his mouth. She could practically feel the blood drain from her face. "Duncan," she breathed, trying to control her temper from exploding, "I can't do this—can't you get another girl to help? And what kind of bet makes _this _the leveling ground? I'll do something else, anything!"

Duncan ran a hand over the top of his mohawk, letting out a sigh before pushing Courtney against a wall and leaning over her. She blinked at how close he was to her, momentarily forgetting the 'doing something illegal' factor.

"Alright, I knew you wouldn't be happy about this," he started, putting his hand against the back of her head and pushing her closer still; Courtney's eyes widened at the motion. "And if I wasn't focused on getting these parts for my bike, trust me, you _would_ be doing something completely different right now for losing that bet."

Duncan put a hand under Courtney's chin to hold her gaze when she tried to pull away from him. His lips quirked. "This is what I meant by appreciating my self-control, princess. I don't think you realize how hard it is for me not to kiss the hell out of you."

Courtney felt her throat go dry when he tilted her face to the side and pressed his lips against the edge of her jaw line. She could barely register what was going on—it was like her arms had been paralyzed, and she could hear The Voice whispering the descriptions of certain moments of her dream in her head.

"Here's my proposition," whispered Duncan, his breath hitting her ear from mere centimeters away and sending goosebumps all over her skin, "you can fulfill your part of the bet and help me with this, or you can _let_ me kiss you."

What?! That was cheating! Courtney twisted her head violently, an insult on the tip of her tongue—

His lips were now poised at the very corner of her own; tantalizing and enticing as her darker voice pushed at her more human desires. Duncan let out a light laugh, mouth barely brushing her skin. "What's it gonna be?"

He knew just where to hit her pride; Courtney couldn't help but think over that essential fact as she tried to focus hard enough to make a decision. She could let him kiss her, but then she would be caught in his triumph… and she didn't even know how she would react. On the other hand, doing something illegal scared the crap out of her; not to mention it went against everything she believed.

Clenching her eyes shut, Courtney made a move. Regaining the use of her frozen limbs, she shoved Duncan to the side, hearing his (almost) disappointed sigh, and feeling jitterier than the time she had to stand up in front of the whole high school and give a speech.

She couldn't even swallow, her throat was so dry. "Just… just tell me what to do," she rasped, feeling her cheeks fill with blood as she avoided his intense stare.

Duncan regarded her silently, almost like he was contemplating something. Then he made an incoherent, though annoyed, grumble and once more took hold of Courtney's arm to guide her in the right direction.

It wasn't another second before his knowing look was back in place. "You do realize that I'll get that kiss sooner or later, right?"

Courtney seethed at his confidence. "Keep telling yourself that, jerk."

The Voice laughed. _Jerk? Still too shook up to tap into your normal creativity, eh? _Courtney's seething faded into a prickled brooding, increasing when it became apparent that Duncan unknowingly agreed with her inner-voice, letting out a few low snickers.

It was then that the prospect of doing something that could endanger her entire future took to banging at her already indentured head again. Her breathing quickened as they neared a set of dark doors after walking by a few men smoking what looked like weed. The men's eyes followed them in suspicion, but Duncan seemed to know what he was doing…

At least, she hoped so.

"If I don't get into college because of this, I'll never speak to you again," whispered Courtney offhandedly when they entered a noxiously-lit hallway, drunken or wasted bodies lining the walls. She had to stop her teeth from grinding against each other.

"Tch. Like I'd risk that," snorted Duncan, blearily reaching through the smoke-filled hallway. Courtney twitched when she realized she had flushed, and that he had noticed. He grinned at her. "Told you I'm charming."

She sucked in air to growl at him, but only succeeded in inhaling a great deal of the smoke drifting around her. She immediately began coughing, trying to glare when Duncan laughed.

"Man, princess, you are _way_ too sheltered."

"Shuttup," she hacked, pinching the end of her nose to block out any more of the toxic substance. "At least I'm not so accustomed to cigarette smoke that I'm not bothered in the least. You seriously disgust me."

She clicked her tongue when he took a deep breath of the smoke unharmed, eyes narrowing when he waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Fine. But don't come crying to me when you get lung cancer. Actually, I hope you do!"

"Come crying to you?" Duncan teased.

Courtney stomped her foot, fury heightening when his amusement seemed to grow. "No! Get lung—" She broke off with a yelp when Duncan pulled her out of the main hallway and into a room that distinctly resembled a warehouse. She gave another shout when a man, who was holding an empty beer bottle, clawed at her foot, and nearly jumped behind Duncan.

"Don't worry," Duncan said, in an almost entertained-exasperation. "He's harmless. Completely plastered, but harmless."

"I hate this," Courtney complained, not caring that it had come out as a whine. It felt like she was in some assortment of a horror movie. The entire ambience of the setting was enough to give her a permanent case of the chills, but when you added people who looked like they wouldn't hesitate in cutting out your spleen and selling it on the black market, well, she could hardly breathe as a result of the sporadic sputtering of her heart.

She continued as Duncan urged her forward once more. "I really can't believe you're making me do this—I think I'm in shock."

"Well, if shock is what's keeping you from completely going into your CIT-freak-out-mode, then keep it up."

While she mustered up as affronted a glare as she could, Courtney didn't really know how to respond. He _did _kind of have a point. It didn't matter, however, if she was going to say anything at all—they appeared to be in the 'main' room of the entire place. It was as dark and dreary as the rest, but this one held a much more prominent foreboding of the ominous sort.

And it wasn't like she could run away and escape. She could be murdered by one of those pitiful waste-sacks that called themselves humans. Also, Duncan was her ride, which was unfortunate in itself.

Her ears were attracted to the sudden sound of yelling as a large gateway opposite them opened and presented the scene of a rather frightening woman urging a plethora of workers onward. She then heard Duncan let out a snort and looked up in question at him.

"Doesn't she remind you of that one Eva-chick?" he asked, upon seeing her stare. Courtney's mouth opened in surprise. The woman began to scream furiously in French when one of the crates a worker was holding fell to the ground.

"…Yep."

The woman chose that moment to look up, and Courtney flinched at the look she aimed at them. It wasn't unlike that of a rabies-strung dog eyeing its next victim.

_That's a pretty thought,_ she inwardly mentioned to herself, sarcastic. It was true, though. The woman held up a muscle-laced arm to halt any more of the employees from coming in, narrowing her eyes. Courtney squirmed when the female-wrestler-lookalike scrutinized her, as if piecing her apart layer by layer.

"So," the woman growled gruffly, turning her head to look at Duncan as she walked forward, "is this the girl?"

Duncan folded his arms casually, which boggled Courtney—even if he was a hardened criminal, how did this woman not frighten him? Her eyebrows heightened when he merely shrugged, inclining his head towards the boxes that were carried in. "Are those my parts?"

Lip curling, the woman stomped over to a small desk and practically ripped out the drawer, causing Courtney to jump at the loud sound it made. The woman grabbed a file and held it in her hand, the folder crumpling slightly in small creases from where her fingers were gripping it so hard. "She just needs to fill these out for me. Your stuff is in the back." She sniffed, probably to cover up some sort of insult.

Duncan grinned his most conceited grin. "You're a doll." Courtney nearly blanched when he started to walk away. She rapidly clutched at his sleeve again, halting his step. He merely raised an eyebrow at her, making her insides boil.

"What the heck do I do now?" she hissed, severely discontented with the situation.

"You heard her—just fill out those papers." He made it sound like he was talking to a three-year-old. _Imbecile…_

Courtney placed her hands on her hips. "I don't know how this process works! And I'm not signing my name on anything." She added the last part with a dark warning.

"Oh, right. Sign with the name 'Loonel'; two o's."

"Duncan, the least you could do is—"

She was abruptly cut off when the woman snapped at her. "I haven't got all day, girl. Come on!"

Effectively quieted, Courtney tentatively approached the desk, trying her hardest to ignore Duncan's chuckling. Oh dear. Here came that nauseous feeling again. Something bad was definitely going to happen… there really wasn't any other choice.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, ducking down under the harsher woman's gaze. "So, uh, what do I do?"

The woman raised a thick brow line, snorting. "Did your goon of a boyfriend not fill you in?"

Courtney's face went from a dead pallor to a rich maroon color. "He's not my boyfriend!" she protested venomously. "I hate him."

"Then why are you helping him, hmm?"

"Because I lost a bet!"

For a moment, it looked as though the woman was about to laugh, the corners of her lips twitching up. But at the last minute she let out a heavy sigh and pulled a pen out of her pocket, handing it to Courtney and gesturing for her to sit down in a chair on the other side of the desk. "You got the short end of the stick, eh? Me too. Name's Marie." She held out her hand.

Courtney stared at the appendage, ogling at its largeness—it reminded her acutely of a bear paw. She shook her head, quickly shaking Marie's hand. "Courtney," she said stiffly, sitting down. She looked down at the papers with a foul look on her face. She clicked the pen a few times, deep in debate on how to start.

About to ask a series of what she was sure would be obnoxious questions, Courtney started again when one of the fiendish looking men placed a jug of water on the desk with two cups. He seemed quite upset that he was the one to have to be the deliverer, and walked away with a disgruntled sway in his step.

"Want a glass?" asked Marie tiredly. Courtney nodded meekly, beginning to fill out the ownership portion of the forms. It felt like her mind was steadily moving into a blank state, and that her body was being powered by a set of batteries. It was probably best that she didn't think about what she was doing, anyway.

"Thank you," Courtney said politely, frowning when Marie gave her a peculiar look after setting the glass down and pouring one for herself.

She frowned more when the pen suddenly leaked out onto the corner of the paper. Sighing, she took a sip of the water placed in front of her, tongue curling at the rusty taste.

"If you hate him," began Marie, seemingly curious, "why did you make a bet with him? Didn't you think it would end badly?"

Irritated that this woman was prying, Courtney had to mind her manners before answering. "Well, it's not like I expected him to win." She clenched the pen between her fingers, taking another sip of her water, attempting to quench her parched throat. "And it's not like I expected him to make me do _this_, either."

The older woman nodded in agreement, chugging her glass in one go. "Men are mindless bags of flesh that ought to be greased and thrown into a furnace."

Courtney twitched at the mental image. "Uh… yeah." She tried to sound convincing—it didn't seem to work. Actually, she was a bit nervous at what might happen if she disagreed with Marie. Vaguely, her mind drifted to a scene where Eva and Marie began to box…

She nearly jumped out of her seat, again, when another man came running up to the desk panting. Courtney took note of the suddenly frantic hum of voices that was drifting around the room. He began to speak in French to Marie, and Courtney was struggling to understand. Two years of French class really didn't help much.

A hand gripped her shoulder when a series of gunshots rang around the outside of the warehouse. Courtney's heart immediately launched into its hyperventilation-mode at the ear-shattering noises. She was pulled out of her seat roughly, by who she guessed was Duncan because of way she was suddenly pressed against his chest—even if it was to avoid the lamp sitting atop the desk from falling on her as more shots went off.

"Time to go, princess."

Courtney, eyes wide, could barely get her mouth to move enough to form words. "Duncan? What's going on?"

He rubbed the back of his neck before yanking on her arm to pull her forward into a brisk walk. "Oh, nothing really. The cops kinda figured out what was going on, and now they're raiding the place."

"_What?!_"

Courtney felt her throat crack as she shrieked her question, legs suddenly feeling an extra burst of endorphins as fear clawed at her chest. Duncan winced at the sound, picking up the pace when the shouting in the building escalated to new levels.

"Calm down!" He rammed his shoulder into a door, pushing it open. Courtney couldn't help but enter another coughing fit when the remnants of cigarette smoke drifting in the air passed through her nose and mouth. "I have an idea," he muttered, once she had settled.

Courtney was so officially freaked out that she could feel her body stiffening. What if she got caught? In an illegal operative's warehouse, no less. It would ruin her!

"We're beyond screwed! And it's your fault!" She could barely keep her voice under control. Black and white spots danced in front of her vision and she coughed again, attempting to get the smoke out of her lungs.

"No, no we're not. I've got this." There was that arrogance again. Why couldn't he just accept the fact that they were dead and be done with it? It almost bothered her more than the idea of getting put in juvie. Almost.

_Well, at least you'll have good company,_ reasoned The Voice with a cackle. Courtney felt the anger engulf her stomach at the implication as anxious tears prickled behind her eyes. This wasn't happening to her. It couldn't be happening. "Fine! Then get it, already! Because I haven't got any ideas!"

Duncan finally seemed to notice her distress and slowed his run, allowing her to catch her breath and try to keep her eyes dry. She couldn't help it—she was so angry! And scared.

"Whoa—hold up. It's gonna be fine!" He looked semi-uncomfortable at her reddening eyes and she didn't bother to stifle a glare.

"Really? Because the prospect of it being fine looks a little bleak to me!"

He sighed, frowning, and quickly maneuvered himself and her over to another door. He swore when the voices behind them got even louder. Courtney could feel herself shaking now. He managed to open the door and pulled her through; her eyes were drawn right away to an array of sleek, shiny motorcycles lined up throughout the room. She gave him a confused look.

"We can't exactly sneak out the front door without being caught," he explained at her questioning expression. "This is our ticket out."

Courtney's knees buckled when she realized what he was saying. "You want to steal one of these things?!" He opened his mouth to say something, however, she wasn't quite ready to let him talk. "Are you completely out of your mind? This is insane! These aren't just illegal parts—this is freaking _quadruple_ that illegality!"

"But… it's European." There was a pleading whine to his voice.

She shook her head furiously, nearly lurching when the same dots blinked before her sight.

Duncan muttered something under his breath, rubbing his forehead. "Listen, babe, we don't really have a choice. We've got to get outta here _fast_." Courtney rubbed her arms, biting her lip when another gun shot went off behind them.

"Shit!" cursed Duncan, forcing Courtney to bend over. Oh yeah, she was past the point of freaking out now. She felt her head forcefully turned up to link with his gaze. "Courtney, you've got to trust me."

She felt a sense of wonderment when she heard her name come out of his mouth, and was so shocked by that sheer utterance that she didn't quite hear what he said next. All she could really do was follow him when he told her to "get on the bike" and latch her arms around his waist as he turned the key in the ignition.

She let out a nervous groan when the machine roared to life underneath her and tightened her hold when the bike spurred forward, whimpering when they made a sharp turn to enter a small tunnel that looked like it would lead them out of the warehouse.

It was only when the motorcycle increased in speed exponentially that she felt her stomach completely drop to her toes.

Hair whipping around her face as though she were in a tornado, Courtney could only clench her eyes shut as they raced on. _Oh crap._ She could feel the motion sickness building in her intestines. This was not okay.

She heard Duncan let out a whoop of some sort when they cleared to the street, somehow making the bike go faster. A squeal left her throat when he made another sharp turn; she was sure she'd have nail marks on her wrists when this was over.

And there was still that part of her that couldn't really accept what was occurring. She felt like she was in some dream-like sequence of events that seemed so unrealistic that they could only ever happen in your sleep. Or in the movies. She didn't really know how to handle it.

But then, as quickly as it started, it was over. After some meandering through the city, Courtney had begun to loosen up, allotting for her lungs to actually expand and take in the precious oxygen that they had been lacking. It didn't take much longer until they were in front of the same place that they had left from earlier in the evening. She glared banefully at the bench she had previously sat at for no other reason than to help release her pent-up anger; especially because Duncan was immune to her looks.

"Not like this isn't comfortable, darling, but you can let go." Courtney scowled at Duncan's smirk, practically prying her stiff arms from around him and stepping awkwardly off the bike… only to feel her legs go limp.

Duncan barely caught her under her arm, somehow balancing the oversized transportation device and holding her up simultaneously.

"You don't have the best sea legs, do you?"

"Shuttup," moaned Courtney, confused at how hard it was to form the words and pressing a hand to her stomach. "I feel sick, and it's all beca—"

She cut herself off when her vision went completely black, only giving her brief flashes of her surroundings. She could hear Duncan asking her something, but his question wasn't really on her priority list at the moment. It was rather disconcerting that she couldn't see, after all.

It was only when Duncan released her and she failed to stand up that Courtney realized something was wrong. But even when her head smashed against the ground and sent a splitting pain up and down her body, the only thing she could think of was how Duncan was shouting her name again.

Well, that and how the sound of silence could be so loud.

* * *

_Muahahahaha. Cliff hangers. Gotta love 'em. _

_Okay. Well, I know a lot of you probably want responses to your reviews and I would LOOOVE to give them to you.... unfortunately, I cannot. I think my brain is dead and I have to go to this song practice thing and learn how to sing in several different languages. It'll be great! *coughcoughNOTcoughcough*_

_Anyway, once more I thank you all, and especially the few who leave me reviews that I don't even deserve. You know who you are! And if I had cookies, I would give them to you. _

_And *GASP* what has happened to Courtney??? _

_I don't know. I'm only the author. Peace. _


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